


When All Else Fails

by BassoonGirl



Category: Emily of New Moon - L. M. Montgomery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-19
Updated: 2016-02-13
Packaged: 2017-12-24 00:06:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 68,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/932688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BassoonGirl/pseuds/BassoonGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some forty years after their marriage, Emily and Teddy struggle to stay together.<br/>(A continuation of Emily: Pictures, Poems, and Songs)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. "Round Midnight"

_“It begins to tell sometime 'round midnight, midnight_

_I do pretty well, till after sundown_

_By supper time I'm feelin' blue_

_But I really miss you 'round midnight_

_Memories return at sometime 'round midnight_

_I have yet to learn to stop those memories_

_When my heart is still with you_

_And old midnight knows it too_

_Did it mean that our love would be ending_

_When some quarrel we had needed mending_

_Darlin', I need you, but lately I find_

_You're out of my heart and I'm out of my mind_

_Let our love take wing at sometime 'round midnight, midnight_

_Let the angels sing for your returning_

_Let our love be safe and sound_

_When old midnight comes around.”_

                                                                              - _Round Midnight (as performed by Sting and Andy Summers)_

 

                Emily looked around her curiously.  The light that spilled in the windows was softer than she had ever expected it would be.  It glimmered almost like water on the sanded floors.  If she let her imagination take her home, it was like the reflection of the Blair Water on her page when she sat beside it to write.  It had been a boon that all of the old, un-tempered glass was salvageable.  Although it was a bit risky, she liked the way it diffused sunlight better.  Teddy would love the light here.  She shut off that train of thought abruptly.  No.  She would not start down that road now.  She set her battered, leather messenger bag down on the kitchen table and stroked the wood lightly with her fingers.  It had been an old work table from the factory, but she had it remade.  It suited her Murray practicality to have everything that remained in the space turned into something useful or decorative, if it was at all possible.  As such, the décor was slightly austere and commercial, mixed with teak and cherry wood.  She had antiques here, but the warm, well-loved kind, not the pristine, perfect, and priceless kind.  So, this was home now?  There was a question in her mind when she thought about it in those terms.  This morning and Willomere seemed ages, lifetimes away from the present.  She did not want to remember that, but she did, just the same.

 

                “Teddy, we need to talk,” she said desperately, standing at the foot of the stairs as he headed across the foyer to leave.  She had followed him from his office in frustration.

                He turned and smiled absently, “Later, Love.  I have to get to a meeting.”  He turned away and headed to the door.

                Emily hurried ahead and blocked the doorway, “No, not later.  Now!”  She looked up at him.  Something resembling the Murray look was on her face, and she knew it.  She saw the annoyance flash across his countenance and it vexed her even more.  “To hell with the meeting!”

                Teddy blinked and shook his head, “Emily, come on.  Be reasonable.  I said we would talk about this later.”  He did not have time to deal with domesticity.  If Emily wanted the guests to leave, she could tell them to go.  He really did not understand why she wanted him to do this, all of a sudden.  He really didn’t understand why she was upset at all.  It wasn’t as if their perpetual house guests were even noticeable, the house was so large.  Of course, the fact that they had arrived before Christmas and were still here in July was a bit odd, but it was just a fact of life in their position.  He didn’t even know who they were.

                “Later?  When is later, Teddy?” she shook her head in frustration.  This was impossible!  She had broached the subject with him so many times that she was getting tired of it herself.  She was beginning to sound like a shrew, and even she knew that.  Somehow, she couldn’t help it.  “You are never home, and when you are, you’re drowning in a ledger.  Wake up, for God’s sake!  Look at what we’ve become!”  She spun away from him and gestured at the room with her hand, “This albatross is killing us!  You haven’t painted in eons, and everything we are is stagnant.  Doesn’t it mean anything to you anymore?”

                Teddy sighed.  Dimly, he knew she was right, but he had to ignore it.  God knew he wanted to paint.  But it just wasn’t there; it hadn’t been for far too long.  He didn’t want to admit that to her, he couldn’t.  Emily was still writing, more and better than ever.  She had a screenplay for _The Moral of the Rose_ in Hollywood now and her second play on Broadway.  Whatever inspiration drove her had not lessened over the years.  But for him, Pearl Harbor had been impactful in a different way.  He couldn’t tell her that.  More than anything, it hurt him that he couldn’t talk to her about it.  Instead, he flashed back, “Albatross?  This is everything you ever wanted!  I’m doing all of this for you!”

                “I _never_ wanted this!”  Emily’s voice was low, but none-the-less angry.  “Never!  I never wanted to lose my husband to a bank account!  I never thought you would do this.  Not you!”  She glared at him, “You’re killing us, Teddy!”

                “Christ!  Be reasonable, Emily!” he fumed.  Did she think he wanted it to be like this?  Why couldn’t she see that this was the last thing he wanted?  In spite of how he felt, he still couldn’t tell her.

                Emily took a deep breath and shut her eyes.  They rarely got angry with one another, and it was not productive – they both knew that.  “We can’t solve anything like this.  Please Teddy, stay home today and let’s… let’s go for a walk or something… we have to sort this out.  I can’t… I can’t live like this anymore!”  The last sentence was a tortured whisper.

                Teddy shut his eyes briefly, and tried to calm down himself.  Regardless of how he might feel about it, and how important he knew it was, he couldn’t deal with this now.  “Tomorrow.  We’ll do it tomorrow.”  He couldn’t look at her when she spoke that way.  It reminded him too much of how she had sounded when he told her.  He nodded to himself in resolution and walked out of the house.  The large black car promised an escape from all of this.  Here, he was floundering like a fish out of water.  He could go to his office and be in control of his life again; numbers on a page were easier to understand than this.

                A little piece of Emily died as she watched him leave the house and duck into the waiting car.  That he could even contemplate there being something more important than their life together was like a knife through her heart; piercing and fatal.  “There are no more tomorrows,” she whispered.

 

                The abandoned factory had been on the auction block and she’d bought it for a song about two years ago.  It was on the southern edge of the developed area, closer to the area known as Hell’s Hundred Acres.  She wasn’t exactly sure why she wanted it so much.  She had been over in Greenwich Village with Judith Kent having lunch at one of the new bookshop-cum-coffee houses.  Judith had lived here since the early 1900s, in a lovely brownstone.  Although Teddy’s aunt was nothing like her sister Katharine, Emily adored her.  She was an editor for Foster’s – a competitor to Emily’s Wareham’s.  Judith and Janet Royal had been friends for years, so the connection was easy.  When they first moved to New York, in 1926, Judith had been an invaluable source of information.  Even though she was retired now, she was still energetic and delightful to be with.  Emily enjoyed visiting her in the Village whenever she could, even if Teddy rarely took the time to go with her anymore.

                The area was quickly becoming a mecca for young artists and creative free spirits.  It was bohemian and colorful.  It reminded Emily so much of Paris in the early part of the century.  The building itself was lovely – red brick and old timbers, walls and ceiling riddled with glass.  Judith mentioned that so many of the old factories and warehouses were being turned into quaint little shops with apartments above them.  For some reason the idea appealed to Emily.  Teddy had always said that real estate was never a bad investment.  She hated everything associated with his business, but had to admit that he was right about that.  So she bought it.  She hadn’t even mentioned it to Teddy.  He had always been adamant that she be in charge of her own money and have her independence, so there was no need to tell him.  It was easy to renovate and rent out the shop spaces on the bottom floor.  The top floor was something else.  Emily hired an architect to come and plan out the apartment space, but something he said about using it as a studio had really resonated with her.  In her mind, Emily envisioned this as a place where she and her husband could come to get away from everything – a sanctuary for their work in this metropolis of activity.  So she did it.  Instead of the apartments she originally planned, the space was turned into one enormous loft dwelling.  It was really supposed to be a gift for Teddy, a small token that might give him back his art.

                When the telegram came about Frank, something died in Teddy.  Emily knew that.  Something died in her too.  But for her husband it had been his painting.  He did a few sketches immediately after, but they were strained and mechanical.  Then, even that stopped.  He hadn’t drawn anything in almost nine years.  When the war took his son, it took every bit of creative spark from him.  The doctors said it was depression and gave him medication to take.  He tried it, but similar to the morphine-based pain killers he had been prescribed for his injury after the war, lithium did not sit well with Teddy.  He stopped taking it and stopped seeing the doctors who advised him to.

                He had instead, immersed himself in his business ventures: travelling, meeting with investors, negotiating with the government.  They had been more than wealthy when they first came to New York.  Nearly twenty-five years later it was ridiculous!  The house was a monstrosity - she had never loved it, as magnificent as it was.  It was Teddy’s dream for her, not the way she wanted to live.  She accepted it in the spirit he intended it, but never felt like it was their home.  It was like living at a hotel permanently.  (Emily never understood how her friend Coco could stand that.)  It was forced formality and social obligation, twenty-four hours a day.  When things had been good between her and Teddy, it was manageable, tolerable, and some parts of it were even fun.  They could laugh together at the currying of favor and pretentious posing and then retreat to their studios and go back to being themselves.  It hadn’t bothered her so much then.  Now it was different.

                Her decision to leave this morning had made it more than different.  She had tried to stay.  She had tried to make it work with him, but it wasn’t in her to live with a man she could not really talk to.  She had not been able to talk to Teddy, not really, for years now.  Every time she tried, something always got in the way.  Even in their private life, he was distant and unreachable.  His arm around her was habit, not affection.  His kisses were cool and never contained the promise of passion they once had.  She tried to pretend that was not important; they weren’t newlyweds, after all.  She had stayed - first for the children and then for the grandchildren.  But, it wouldn’t work.  This morning, something snapped inside her – the straw that broke the camel’s back, if you will.  When she told him what she needed, he ignored it.  Emily could handle a lot of things, but not that.  She could not be married to a man who thought so little of her.  It was almost a relief to leave.  But now she had to face the reality of being a single woman again.  It had been almost forty years since she had even considered that.  She had never thought that Teddy would change like this.  Never.  She had never thought about being alone since the day he came back to her.

                She took a deep breath, inhaling the unfamiliar smell of her new home.  “Well E.B., best get at it!”  She spoke out loud to herself and moved toward the large writing table that was set up to look out over the river.  Work – her saving solace.  She thought about what she needed to do: edits for Goldwyn.  She pulled out the file and sat down to write.

 

 

 


	2. "In A Lifetime"

_“In a lifetime…_   
_And as the rain it falls_   
_Begin again, as the storm breaks through_   
_Heavy in my heart_   
_Believe the light in you_   
_So the light shines in you_   
_Without color, faded and worn_   
_Torn asunder in the storm”_

_\- Clannad – “In a Lifetime”_

 

                Frederick Kent let himself into the bedroom silently.  It was late – very late.  He shouldn’t wake Emily.  It wasn’t fair to get her up at this hour, but he certainly wanted to!  He wanted to bury his head in her hair and sob.  Yesterday, when he was in London, he passed by a gallery and saw a piece of his work in the window.  It was an old painting; he had done it before they were married.  Emily on a beach – he called it _Spirit of the Sea_.  He bought it; Emily didn’t like pictures of herself on display.  She used to tolerate it for exhibits, of course, but didn’t want them sold.  He had done his best to buy them all back so she wouldn’t be uncomfortable.  Looking at it leaning against the wall in his office today had nearly ruined him.  Oh God, he wanted to paint!  He needed to paint – desperately!  His wife knew this too; she had said as much the other morning, amid all of the rambling about guests and so forth.  He supposed he would have to talk about that with her eventually.

                At first, Emily had encouraged his drawing overtly, even offering to sit for him if he wanted.  He had refused.  Then she had become more subtle about it, just slipping blank sketchbooks and his favorite pencils into his luggage when he travelled, as she had done their whole life together.  She had even gone so far as to write snippets of poetry for him in them, sharing her inspiration with him in hopes that he might be able to channel something, anything.  Then she stopped.  He wasn’t sure when.  It felt like an eternity since they had worked together.  For him, that was like going to church.  It was like communing with the other side, seeing beauty in a three-way mirror.  He needed that right now, he needed to connect with something real, and the only thing that was real for him was Emily.

                He knew she was disappointed in him.  Somehow, no matter what he did, how many business deals he made, how much more money he poured into their bank account, she wasn’t satisfied.  To tell the truth, he wasn’t either.  It didn’t matter – none of it did.  It couldn’t buy back their sons, and it couldn’t match the way he felt when his daughters or his wife smiled at him.  He hadn’t seen that in a long time either, not even on paper.  He removed his shoes and padded across the carpet to his studio, silently, not wanting to wake her if she were in bed.  He let himself in soundlessly.  There was no light under the door to her workspace, so she must be asleep.  He turned on the light above his drafting table and stared into space for a long moment.  The blank white board was frightening, but it was now or never.  He removed his jacket and tie, and rolled up his sleeves.  It was time to face what he had been so scared of for so long.  He couldn’t live this way any longer, without his work.

                When the first light of the morning streamed in through the windows and woke him up, he rose from the leather couch where he had collapsed at some point last night and surveyed the results of his attempt.  Dismal!  And yet…  He pulled out a sheet of paper from the middle of the pile that littered the floor.  He looked at the line critically.  Maybe…  Maybe there was something there.  He tacked it back up on the board and took up his pencil again.  Although it was frustrating, he was beginning to feel alive again.

 

                Emily hummed under her breath to the song on the radio as she pulled out the pan of shortbread.  She loved Ellington.  The rain had prompted her to make a batch of Juliet’s Cookies today, well that and a wee bit of a block in her current story.  Alright, three white nights, writer’s block, and utterly wretched loneliness.  Emily had finally admitted to herself that she missed him.  Regardless of whatever problems they had now, they also had more than fifty years of history together; four children, thirty-eight years of marriage, and countless shared experiences.  She missed the Teddy she had once known so well and so intimately, regardless of who he had become.  Yesterday she broke down and put one of his sweaters on.  That had not been a good idea.  Surrounding oneself with the vestiges of what one wanted most was not healthy, she knew that.  She had a good cry though, and that helped.

                She still had the sweater on – it was a long (at least on her) white cotton tennis sweater that he bought on a trip to England a few years before the war.  Teddy didn’t play tennis, but when he was working he got paint all over anything and everything he wore.  There was a stain on the left arm to prove it – burgundy and green in a blotch on the elbow.  Emily confiscated it as soon as she saw it was ruined – Teddy was also wont to put on anything that was in his closet, regardless of what state it was in.  He’d have worn it to the White House, stain and all, and not thought anything of it.  She only stole his clothes to save him from disaster - at least that was her excuse.  Her long dark hair was pulled back from her face in a ponytail and the denim jeans were a bit too big and rolled up around her ankles.  Alright, they were his too.  She wore his clothes as regularly as she wore her own.  This was not a new thing.  It was so much easier to pull on whatever he removed and get down to work!  She had done that for years.

                Emily Kent was still a beautiful woman.  She never really thought of herself in those terms, but almost everyone else did.  She hadn’t been a classic beauty of the Victorian ideal, but her slender, well-proportioned body was attractive in the modern, clean lines that were once again popular.  Her hair was still striking, in a different way than it once had been; she had been blessed with two wings of white at her temples that made her look rather austere, but set off the angles of her cheekbones and shadowy eyes.  Emily didn’t color her hair.  She might be a slave to fashion in some ways, but that was one line she never crossed.  The specter of Elizabeth Murray would simply not allow it!  Teddy hadn’t painted her hair like this yet, anyway.

                “Aha!”  Emily thought of the ending to her story.  She shut off the stove, grabbed a handful of cookies from the cooling rack and hurried over to her work table.

 

 


	3. "One By One"

_“One by one my leaves fall._   
_One by one my tales are told._   
_It's no lie_   
_She is yearning to fly._   
_She says Adios, says Adios,_   
_And now you know why_   
_He's a reason to sigh_   
_She says Adios, says Adios, Goodbye.”_

_\- Enya – “One by One”_

 

                “Where’s Gram?” Morgan demanded.

                Teddy looked at her curiously, “What do you mean?”  His grand-daughter was standing at the doorway to the dining room, wearing a man’s dress shirt and a pair of denim jeans that were pegged at the ankles.  He recognized both items as his own.  Why were the women in his house so enamored with his clothing when they had vaults of their own?  “Didn’t she come down yet?”  He hadn’t seen Emily this morning and the bed was made, so he just assumed she was already up and about.  He could never understand how she managed it all.  She would write until the wee hours and then be on the go all day with the grandkids.  Sometimes it exhausted him just to look at everything she did.  He hadn’t given her a day off in a long time.  He was looking forward to telling her that he had started to draw again.  Maybe they could spend the day together working.  He needed a bit of inspiration, and working together was a lot like a holiday for both of them – or it had been, once upon a time.

                Morgan shook her head, “No, we thought you guys were away.”  She dropped into the chair beside her grandfather and picked up the book she had been reading as the maid served her breakfast.  She saw the look on her grandfather’s face and shut it again.  Granddad was very particular about etiquette at the table.  “Sorry.  Really wanted to see what happened.”  She dumped a spoonful of sugar into her tea and stirred it.

                Jon snorted, “It’s _War and Peace_.  We know what happened!”  He shoveled in a forkful of eggs and looked at his grandfather curiously, “Why aren’t you at work?”

                Teddy shrugged, “I decided to stay home today.  Are you sure that you haven’t seen your grandmother this morning?”  He looked at the four young people who sat at the table in their private dining room in question.  Robin’s children had become theirs.  He wasn’t averse to the idea, it was just odd to think that they were surrogate parents to four more children, ranging in age from Jon’s nearly eighteen years to Arthur’s six.

                Teddy the younger, who was eight, shook his head, “Nope.  She wasn’t here yesterday and I had to miss my piano lesson.”  He crunched on a piece of bacon and looked at his grandfather, “Mama will hit the roof when she gets back tomorrow.  I was supposed to have the Tchaikovsky finished.”

                Teddy blinked, “She what?”  Emily never missed anything with the kids.  She knew their schedules like the back of her hand and always had them ready and waiting for their next activity.  She had been like that with their own children too, he remembered.  She was an amazing mother.

                Jon nodded, “That’s why we thought you two were away.  She hasn’t been around all week.”  He looked up at his grandfather and saw the shock registering on his face.  “I’m sure she’s just working or something.”  He tried to make amends as best he could, and then buried his head in his breakfast.  Something was wrong.  Gram hadn’t been herself when she left on Tuesday, and it really wasn’t like her to go anywhere without Granddad, at least not for this long.  His grandfather had been away in London for a meeting, he knew that much.  He just assumed that Gram decided to go there too, for some reason.

                Teddy took a deep breath.  “Perhaps,” he murmured.  He sat at the table with his grandchildren and talked about anything and everything under the sun as they ate breakfast.  They were excited that he was home, that was for sure.  Meanwhile, some unearthly, unholy thing inside him was waking; something borne of a fear of loss he hadn’t acknowledged in years.  Where was she?  She hadn’t mentioned going away, had she?  He moved the cup of orange juice away from Arthur’s elbow mechanically.  Where was she?

                When breakfast was over, Morgan took the two younger boys up to start their lessons and Jon went off to play tennis with some of his friends from Harvard.  It was July and the two older children were both home from college and well able to look after their brothers.  Normally, he would have spent the day with them and Emily.  They could even have gone over to the Vineyard for a couple of days.  Emily loved any time they were able to spend by the sea.  That wasn’t going to happen today.  Teddy fairly ran up to their bedroom.  She was working.  He repeated the sentence over and over as he climbed the stairs.  She was here.  She had to be!  He could silence the voice in his head by simply shouting over it.

                She wasn’t.  He knew that in some fundamental part of himself, in the part of himself that the fear was strangling.  He gingerly opened the door to their room.  Their bedroom was one of the largest rooms in the house, and that meant it was enormous.  It sprawled over the pillared porch that sheltered the massive front doors.  The round glass skylight over their bed echoed the larger one over the foyer.  Normally he loved it, loved seeing Emily bathed in sunlight when she woke from sleep.  But today the beams that streamed through it were almost harsh.  It was too bright for what he was feeling; fear in broad daylight was much more terrifying than fear in the dark.  There was nowhere to hide.  Their dressing rooms were on their sides of the bed and both had enormous closet spaces and bathrooms.  Emily loved her bath and he had built her one that was fit for a queen.  Beyond the bedroom itself were their two workrooms.  Joined by a wall of shuttered French doors that they could open if they wanted to collaborate on something, the two rooms were identical in size and shape, but completely personal.  He entered his own room and shut the door behind him.  He looked at the work he had done the previous evening and earlier in the morning.

                It wasn’t his best work – far from it.  But it was work.  It was progress.  It was something.  It was the line of Emily’s body when she lay on her side.  It was nothing more than a line with shading right now.  He had drawn it so many times before, so easily.  He traced it lightly with his fingertips now.  The line came more automatically.  He picked up his pencil and a fresh sheet of paper and drew it quickly, without thinking.  Better.  He shut his eyes and set down his pencil.  After a few moments, he stood and went to the door that they usually used to connect their rooms.  The gauze curtain on her side defused the light.  He listened for a moment and heard nothing.  He knocked twice, and then opened the door.  She wasn’t here.

                Everything in the room was spotless, ordered, and tidy - that was normal.  Her typewriter was covered, and her dictionary and thesaurus stacked neatly beside it - that was normal too.  But there were no journals or papers littering the table, and that was not normal.  Teddy felt his heart clench horribly in his chest.  Nothing.  No Emily.  He spun around and looked at the large sideboard where she usually kept her work in progress.  All the file folders were gone, as was the battered old messenger bag that she carried everything in.  It had travelled with her to the front lines in France, and to Africa, South America, and Australia when they went there together.  She had carried her books to Shrewsbury High School in it, as a matter of fact.  It was almost a part of her, and there was no longer any part of her here.  He grabbed the back of her chair to steady himself.  The reality of this hit him like a freight train.  He sat down in the tall, Jacobean Farthingale chair that she loved to type in and stared at the envelope on top of the machine.  His name was written in her minimalist cursive script.

                The breath he exhaled was painful and ragged.  He took the envelope in his hands and pursed his lips together.  He remembered opening her letters on the front line and how much he loved hearing her speak to him across an ocean of fear and pain.  Her words then brought him home and made the fight seem worthwhile.  The way she wrote of love let him dream without fear.  This envelope was not going to do that; this was the horrible reality of a nightmare that he couldn’t seem to wake from.  He opened it slowly and unfolded the plain, heavy bond sheet.  It was not her personal stationary, just a sheet of paper that she would use to type her fair copy.  Her handwriting crossed this page in deep, blue-black ink on the cream paper.  At least it was not typewritten.

_“Dear Teddy,_

_I don’t know how to say this.  I have tried to, so many times, but it seems that I just can’t.  Whatever words I have chosen have failed both you and me.  I can no longer live this way, without the man that I love and will always cherish.  I can no longer watch the gulf between us grow wider and wider, when all I want is the closeness we once had.  I simply can no longer.  Perhaps it is a relief to you – I don’t know?  That, in itself, says too much.  For us to have come to this saddens me more than you seem to realize._

_I hope that this makes it easier for you to do the work you now seem to value.  I need a different part of you than you are willing to give me, it appears.  Thus, we are as we are today.  There is no less love for you in my heart and soul than ever there was, and every memory of our life together is a precious gem of joy that I shall always cherish.  I won’t let who we have become color those._

_I can’t give you what you need, and I need what you can’t give, so this chapter must close, for both of our sakes._

_Always Emily”_

He shut his eyes and dropped his head into his hands, crumpling the letter to his chest.  “Oh God, no…”  He sobbed the words and shook with the pain that coursed through every inch of him.  She was gone.

 

                Robin found her father in his studio, sitting on a stool with pencil in hand, staring at the sketch on his drawing board, hours later.  He seemed to not even have heard her come in.  Jon had called her and told her to come.  She had arrived back from Vienna only a few hours earlier and planned to drop over tomorrow, but her son seemed to think it was imperative that she come immediately.  She was a bit annoyed about it at first – driving all the way out to Long Island after travelling all day long was not ideal, but when she saw her father, she forgot about her own inconvenience. 

She looked at her father’s work and one thought crossed her mind immediately: Daddy had his art back.  The sketch of her mother was impeccable and beautiful, and at the same time, tragic.  There was something so painful about the lines he had drawn.  It was her mother with her back turned completely.  Robin had never seen this sketch, or anything like it before.

                “Daddy?” she touched his shoulder gently.

                Teddy looked up at her, blankly.  “Hello, love,” he whispered.  He searched her face for the parts of her mother that he knew were there – the arch of her eyebrows, the tiny dent above her upper lip, and the slight slant at the corners of her eyes.  He found them and the tears came instantly.  Robin didn’t look like Emily, really.  She was more like Aileen Kent had been, but she had some of her mother’s most adorable features.  It was those that broke him.

                Robin’s eyes widened, “Daddy what is it?  Where’s Mum?”  Jon had not been specific, he just said that something was wrong with Gram and Granddad.  “Is Mum alright?”  She looked back at the sketch.  No, her mother was fine, that wasn’t it at all.  Her father would not have drawn her this way if she were ill or worse.  Her father’s whole body vibrated with silent anguish.  “Daddy what?  Tell me!”  She took his hand in both of hers.

                “She’s gone,” he whispered.  He felt the pain again when he said it aloud.  It was the crepitus of his broken heart.  Maybe Robin knew where.  “Is she staying with you?”  His voice was desperately hopeful.

                Robin shook her head, “No…  Daddy, are you sure?”  Mum leaving Daddy?  It was as impossible as it was incomprehensible.  Her parents were the unsplittable atom.  They simply were together.  The idea of them apart was totally illogical.

                Teddy took a deep breath and nodded, “She left me a note.  She’s gone.  She can’t live here like this anymore.  Oh God, what am I going to do?”  He shut his eyes again.

                Robin’s forehead creased, in an exact replication of her father’s.  Things hadn’t been perfect between her parents for a while.  Losing Frank hit them both hard; it had shaken the very foundation of their family.  It was something like what happened when Jed died, only more complicated.  Her father was the one to take it to heart the most, at least outwardly.  He hadn’t really been able to draw since Pearl Harbor; at least that was what her mother said.  That was the one thing that Robin did know, so this return to work for him was a good thing.  But why on earth would her mother leave when he started to work again?  “You’re drawing,” she commented quietly.

                He nodded, “She kept telling me that I needed to.  She told me it would be better if I would just try to put it on paper again.  Why didn’t I listen?”

                “Daddy,” Robin shook her head, “This doesn’t make any sense.  Mum wouldn’t just leave you.  She would have at least talked to you about it.  Maybe she just needs time to work.  Maybe you misunderstood?”  Her mother was an incredibly practical person; she never acted on impulse.  Everything she did was planned and organized to the last detail.  It was impossible that she would do something this drastic on a whim.

                Teddy stood up and moved away from his daughter, “There is no misunderstanding, Robin.  She’s gone.  She did talk to me, but I wouldn’t listen.  I was so wrapped up in myself that I couldn’t see what I was doing to her… to us.”  That he could actually say this to Robin was like an admission of guilt to him.  The only difference was that the sentence had been imposed already.  A life without Emily was more than imprisonment, it was suffocation.

                “Well go and tell her that!” Robin snapped back.  “You can’t just let this happen!  You can’t just give up!”  Robin spoke louder than she should have, mostly out of fear.  She knew what it was like to lose the one you loved the most in the world, and it was not a fate she was willing to accept for her parents.  If they couldn’t make it work, what hope in the world had she?  “You have to try, Daddy!”

                Teddy looked at his daughter sadly, “Of course I do, but I have no idea where she is.”  He asked the staff and they didn’t know.  In spite of how hard it was for him to hear, he called everywhere he could think of.  He started with their Cashlin, thinking that was where she might go for solace.  There was no answer.  He tried their houses in Toronto and Montreal, their cottage in Martha’s Vineyard, and the island in the Bahamas.  He called Ilse and Perry in Ottawa, his Aunt Judith in town, his Aunt Katie on the Island, and even his younger daughter in Africa.  He called Coco Chanel in Paris, and Martha Gellhorn in London – two of her closest female friends.  No one had heard a thing from her.  He then had his housekeeper call every hotel they stayed at with any regularity.  Nothing.

                “Come on Daddy!  That is no excuse!”  Robin spun away.  “Think!  Where could she have gone?”

                They spent the next three hours together trying to figure out where Emily might be staying.  Every idea they had turned up nothing.  Robin called all of the hospitals and the police, just to be sure.  She also called her sister and spoke to her at length, out of earshot of her father.  Laura and Daddy did not always understand one another; Laura was more her mother’s daughter.  However, on this account, Laura was as worried as she, herself, was.  She had no idea where their mother might be, and could not imagine what the rift might be about.  As Robin expected, her father’s call had not done anything except upset Laura.  She rang off with a promise to keep her sister informed of what was going on.

                There was a knock on the studio door well after 10:00 p.m.

                Teddy rushed over and swung it open, “Emily!”

                Richard, the Kents’ butler, took a step back, “No sir, I’m sorry.”  He looked up at his employer, fearfully, “I just returned from visiting my sister and Mrs. Walton told me that you were looking for Madame.  I don’t know where she is, but she did leave this number, in case of any emergencies.”  He held out a piece of her heavy, bond personal stationary.  “Forgive me, I had no idea.”

                Teddy snatched at the paper almost violently.  He looked at the Arabic numerals scratched in pencil on the page in her hand.  Embossed at the foot of the page was her personal signature – “…from the desk of E.B. Starr”.  It was a local number.  She was somewhere in New York.  He slammed the door on his butler abruptly and looked at his daughter, “Call it!” he demanded.  He was shaking so hard that the paper rattled in his hand.  He didn’t mean to yell at his daughter, but he did.

                Robin shook her head and stood up, “Not on your life!  This is yours, Daddy.  I can’t do this for you.”  Her father rarely raised his voice, so this was completely out of character for him.  However, she knew enough about him to know that it was fear, not anger that made him do so.  She touched his shoulder as she passed him, “Don’t let her go, Daddy.  Whatever you have to do, don’t let her go.”  With that, she left the room and went to see her children and call her sister.  As much as she wanted to help him, she knew that this was something her father had to deal with alone.  She could only hope that this rent in the fabric of their marriage was mendable.

 

                Emily sipped at the glass of wine absently and ran her red pencil under the line of text.  That was bad; weak description and weaker grammar.  She took her pencil and scratched out, reordered, and rewrote it in the margin.  She knew she was her own harshest critic, but there were some things that she just did not allow to even land on her editor’s desk.  This was the first draft of a new book about life on the home front during the Great War.  It had taken her years to scare up the courage to write it down, although she had the plot sketched out since early after her return from France in 1919.

                Emily did not consider herself particularly prone to melancholy or brooding over the past, but some of what she had seen in France could never be forgotten, and some of what she experienced at home shouldn’t be.  Her friend, Martha Gellhorn, was one of the very few women that she could share this with.  They met at a party a couple of years ago and Martha ended up sobbing in Emily’s arms about what she had witnessed during the liberation of the concentration camps.  Emily read the other reporter’s work and thought very highly of it.  As it turned out, Gellhorn had come to the party specifically to meet her, in hopes of unburdening some of the inner turmoil she was unable to write out completely.  As a young writer, she read Emily’s war poetry and her collection of editorials, and hoped that she might find a kindred spirit.  Although they were vastly different in age and experience, Emily and Martha became very good friends.  They would never be the type of friends who would lunch or shop together, or call one another to share recipes.  Instead, they were sisters on a higher level, sharing their experiences as women in a man’s world.  Even now, some thirty years after Emily’s foray into journalism, the old boy’s club still reigned supreme.  Martha’s ex-husband was testament to that.  But Emily had never like Hemingway.  After her meeting with the other reporter, Emily started this book.  She wondered, abstractly, whether it would be E.B. Starr or E. Kent who signed her name on this MS at completion.  What she had seen and experienced was entwined deeply in her relationship with her husband, but had she the right to use his name now?  Had she the right to evoke this sense of connection with a man she could no longer live with?

                On the table beside her, the phone rang.  Emily stared at it for a moment, letting it ring a second, and then a third time.  Her heart was hammering in her chest.  Only one person had this number, and Richard would never disturb her.  She had not told him to keep it from Teddy, just that it was only for emergencies.  It had been six days and five nights since she left.  So it was an emergency now, was it?  That was insulting!  She picked up the receiver just before the fourth ring, “Hello?” she said unevenly, trying to calm herself down.

                He strained against the receiver to hear.  It was her, it had to be.  “Emily?”  He had to speak slowly, so the echo didn’t overwhelm him.

                She took a deep breath, “Yes, it’s me.”  She wanted to say more, but knew he couldn’t hear well enough to discern more than the shortest phrases.  She also had to speak slowly and not too loudly.  This was a relic from his war injury that she was completely familiar with.  He rarely used the phone, as a result.  It was always a last resort for him.  She wanted to think that was why it had taken him so long to call.

                “I need to talk to you,” he managed to speak the entire sentence, but had to hold the phone away from his ear to avoid the echo.

                Emily unconsciously let her fingers stroke the receiver lightly, as if it were his hand, and waited for him to bring the phone close enough to hear.  “Alright,” she said.  He had said ‘need’.  How many times had she said that and heard only, “Later,” in return?  She clutched at the phone, determined not to let this get the best of her.

                He wanted to see her now.  He wanted to grab her into his arms and hold her there so tightly that she would never be able to leave him again.

                “Lunch tomorrow?” she had to have time to prepare for this.  That and she needed to be in control of the situation.  Right now she was far too angry and emotional.

                “Yes,” he agreed, reluctantly.  “Where?”  He knew she wouldn’t come here.  That was more than obvious.  “I will meet you wherever you want.”  The longer sentence took its toll and he drew in a breath in a hiss.

                Emily curled her feet underneath her and took a large gulp of her wine, “21 – Noon?”  It was the only place she could think of where they would have some privacy, but would also be in public.  She needed that.  They couldn’t have this conversation in private.  Teddy had far too much control over her heart.

                He nodded, and then realized that she couldn’t see him, “Yes – Noon.”

                “Alright, I will see you then.”  Emily hung up the receiver as soon as she finished speaking.  She knew that he couldn’t carry on a conversation over the phone.  It was no use trying, and it wasn’t fair to judge him on what he said that way.  She also had to ring off before he did, or she would wait interminably for him to do so.  She would not lower herself to that.

                Teddy held the receiver to his heart for long moments after her words.  The pain in his ears was nothing compared to how much he missed her.  Why had he not said that to her?  Once upon a time their life together had almost not happened because he was too afraid to tell her what he really felt.  He could not allow that to happen again.  He could not survive without her.  He lifted the receiver and spoke into it, hopefully, “Emily, I love you.  Please come back to me?”  She wasn’t there to answer, and his heart sank.

 

 

 


	4. "These Are The Words"

_“And these are the words that I say to your picture_   
_These are the words that I say in a dream_   
_These are the words that I wish I'd said to you,_

_When you were standing here next to me”_

_\- James Blunt – “These Are The Words”_

 

He sat at the bar and watched the door, expectantly.  He arrived at 11:00, just in case she was early.  He had not slept at all, spending the entire night at his drawing board with the two dimensional Emily.  He waited as long as he could stand to before leaving to come into town, pacing around his studio and then drawing repetitive and imperfect images of her.  He showered twice and changed his clothes three times.  In the end he wore a suit she had chosen for him in London and a shirt and tie that had been her gift to him on a birthday.  He made sure that he shaved, and that his shoes were polished.  He wanted to buy her a present, at least get her flowers or something, but Robin said that probably wasn’t a good idea.  He didn’t like coming empty-handed.  A thought struck him as he waited: he came to her with nothing but his heart when he asked her to marry him.  Maybe it was the right thing after all.  It was 12:10.  He took a sip of his drink slowly.  Maybe she wasn’t coming.  At 12:25, he drained the dregs of his second scotch.  Emily was never late.  He stared at the ring of condensation that his glass left on the polished bar and thought about how it felt to slip his ring on her finger the day they were married.  He thought about how it felt to have her slip into his arms every night.  Was all of that gone from him now?

The door opened and he saw her dash inside, shaking the droplets of water from the Mack that she held over her head.  It hit him like another freight train, but this time is was just relief and the urge to draw her.  Seeing her again took his breath away.  How long had it been since he felt that flutter in his chest when she walked in the room?  Far too long!  The sparkling crystals of water in her hair shone like diamonds.  She wore it up, as she always did in public; twisted into a tidy knot near the crown of her head.  She wore some sort of white and navy striped shirt and navy, wide-legged pants.  Chanel, he recognized – not because he knew or cared anything about women’s fashion, but because Emily wore it exclusively when she wasn’t wearing his clothes.  Oh, for a pencil and paper to sketch her profile!  It was such a relief to want and need to do that again!  But, he knew this was not the time.  He stood when he saw the maître d’ motion toward him and he saw her look into the bar.  He gulped back the nerves that suddenly rose in his throat.

“I’m so late!” she came toward him and shook her head.  “I apologize.  I didn’t mean to make you wait.”  She stood in front of him and looked up.  Every fiber of her wanted to reach up and kiss him, pull him into her arms and just will this away.  She resisted that impulse and smiled at him instead, slightly.

He shook his head, “It’s alright.”  It was anything but right!  On the other hand, he would have sat here forever if there was even the slightest chance that she might appear and give him the chance to regain what he had lost.  He reached down and tentatively brushed his lips against her cheek.  He was aiming for her lips, but she turned her head at the last moment.  Her skin was damp and she tasted like satin and spring.  “It’s raining,” he said simply.  He had to say something.

Emily nodded at his statement of the obvious, “Yes, it is.  The EL was a madhouse.  May I?” she motioned to the stool on his right.  He was nervous, that was obvious.  So was she.  How did one start a conversation like this?  Leaving had been one thing.  In a way it was easy and obvious to just go.  To now try to come to some sort of understanding about why would be awkward and difficult.  Regardless, he needed to be able to hear her, so she asked for her usual place on his right-hand side.  The old injury was not normally a problem, but if he was upset at all his left ear was useless.  When his blood pressure rose, his ability to hear decreased.

“Of course,” he shook himself and pulled it out for her, embarrassed at his own lack of manners.  He had always just assumed that she would be there, at his side.  That assumption, the fact that he had taken her presence so much for granted over the past few years, was why they were here.  He raised his hand and ordered Scotch for them both.  What was he supposed to say?  He waited until their drinks were delivered, then took a deep breath, “I want you to come home.”

Emily took a sip of her drink: Balvenie, single malt, one of their favorites.  She didn’t say anything in response.  She didn’t know what she was supposed to say or do, but she knew she couldn’t just go back.  It couldn’t be about what he wanted, either.  If they were going to make this work it had to be about both of them.  Things were going to have to change if they were going to try to be together again.  Last night, after she spoke to him and had time to calm down, Emily realized that she did want this to work.  She did not want to be alone for the rest of her life, and Teddy was the only one she had ever wanted to share it with.  She let his words rest without responding.  A part of her needed to let him feel some of what she had for years.  Her journal this morning was a jumble of emotional ranting and raving; pages of the pain and doubt that had filled her white night.  Although she was feeling the aftereffects of far too many nights without rest, writing it down was the catharsis she needed – it always was.  She hoped she was less likely to fall into an abyss of anger and self-pity today because of it.

Teddy shuddered in the silence.  Okay, that wasn’t the right thing to say, obviously.  When he heard it through her ears he realized it sounded selfish.  It was not his prerogative to want anything from her; he had to earn it.  Suddenly he knew what he needed to tell her more than anything else.  “I started drawing the other night,” he said the words softly.

Emily snapped her head up to look at him, in surprise.  She saw that he was still nervous, but this was a boon she had never expected.  When he looked at her she smiled, for real.  “That’s wonderful!”  Her joy was absolutely genuine.  This was the best possible news she could hear today – it was the best news she had heard from her husband in almost ten years.  It meant that there was hope.

Her smile made him shudder.  It was like magic to him when she looked at him that way.  He took a deep breath, “It’s rough.  I feel awkward and uncoordinated, but…  It’s coming back to me, I hope.”  But all I want is for you to come back to me.  He couldn’t say that right now, somehow.  He wanted to, and vowed that he would.

“It will,” she nodded emphatically.  “The hardest part is just getting started.”  She twisted her wedding ring around her finger with her thumb, absently.  She wondered what had made him start again, but didn’t feel that she had the right to ask, somehow.  She was forming her next sentence when another voice interrupted hers.

“Frederick!  Emily!  Great to see you!”

Teddy’s eyes flashed darkly at the man in annoyance, “Good afternoon, Joe.”  He offered his hand, but desperately wished this hadn’t happened.  He glanced at Emily.  She had turned away from him and was staring at the drink in her hand.  He saw her set her shoulders back with a decision and place the glass down precisely.  He laid his hand on her wrist to stop her from leaving.  It couldn’t end like this, not now.  He was not going to leave the words unsaid.

Joe Kennedy was nattering on about something and then took the seat on Teddy’s left.  Emily knew that this was impossible.  They could never discuss anything now.  She wanted to meet in public so that their emotions could not get the better of them.  But she should have realized, or rather remembered, that going anywhere in public with Teddy meant business could and would creep in.  That was the last thing she wanted to even think about right now – that was the reason they were in this situation to begin with.  They would have to find another time.  Teddy’s hand on her wrist changed everything.

“Hope you don’t mind if I join you?” Kennedy asked, obviously expecting the answer to be yes.

Emily wanted to pull away, desperately.  She wanted to wrench her hand from Teddy’s and run, as far and as fast as possible.  She didn’t want to sit here and listen to him talk about politics and position.  She didn’t care how it looked.  This was not the man she wanted to be with right now, or ever.

Teddy looked at his wife and felt the tension in her hand.  He knew that she would walk out if he didn’t do something.  “Actually Joe, we’re leaving.”  He stood up and pulled Emily with him, rather abruptly.  He made their excuses and led her out of the bar.  He quickly retrieved her coat and helped her put it on.  When they stepped out onto the wet street, he took a deep breath.  “I’m sorry to rush you out like that.  It just wasn’t the time to start a conversation with him.”

Emily looked up at him, “Don’t apologize for that.”  She smiled at him gently, “Thank you for giving me the time.”  She was surprised that he had been willing to end the conversation at all.  Kennedy was one of the people that Teddy usually made time for, regardless.  It was still pouring out and she pulled up the collar of her coat as they stood under the awning, “Where to now?”  She desperately hoped that he would not suggest going to Willomere.  She couldn’t do that.

Teddy took a deep breath, “Wherever you like.  I just don’t want to be interrupted any more, I need… we need to talk about this.”  He noticed that her coat was soaking wet and probably not warm at all.  He pulled off his own and draped it over her.

At least he realized that!  Perhaps she could handle doing this in private.  “Let’s get a cab then.”  They stepped up onto the sidewalk and Teddy hailed the first car to pass them.  Emily pulled his coat closer around her unconsciously – it was habit.  She had realized that there were certain minute and practical matters that fell solely into Teddy’s purview in their relationship.  Ordering dinner, hailing cabs, keeping her warm – they were all his.  She had missed those more than she thought she would over the past few days.  The sounds that her apartment made at night were rather frightening when she had to hear them all alone.  For those small things and so much more that was more important, she needed her husband.  She desperately hoped they could solve this.

Once they were in the cab, she spoke up quickly, “84 West 4th Street.”  She settled back beside Teddy and took a deep breath.  She stared at her hands for a moment as the car moved slowly through the traffic.  His arm rested on the seat behind her.  Something that had been automatic for so long was somehow different now; she was aware of him in a way that she had not been for a long time.  It was a sensitivity to his presence that had dulled over years of marriage, with familiarity and expectation.  Emily thought that perhaps that might need to be changed too.  This felt a bit awkward, but in a way it was a relief to just feel his nearness again.  She knew that she could reach up with her left hand and take his so easily.  It was what they both wanted.  Not yet.  She cleared her throat and tried to make conversation, “Robin is back from Vienna?”

“Yes,” he looked out the window at the intersection they crossed.  The address she had given was in Greenwich Village.  He didn’t know anyone in the Village other than his aunt and Janet, but he guessed that she must.  That rankled.  It was the New York epicenter of art and he had no idea what was even there.  He’d spent too damned long on Wall Street to even know what was what in the art world these days.  His wife had friends he had never met, or if he had he hadn’t paid enough attention to know that was where she would go when she needed someone.  What else had he ignored?  What on earth was he supposed to say now?

They rode in an awkward silence the rest of the way.  Whatever she thought she might say to break the stalemate sounded trivial and ridiculous to her.  Emily chose to say nothing and instead stared at a crack in the vinyl of the seat in front of her.  It looked a bit like a lightening fork, jagged and harsh.  The very thought of it made her shudder.  In spite of the fact that it was July, the air was cool and damp, and getting mostly soaked on the way from the train station had not done her much good.  His coat helped, but she wanted to move closer to him and absorb the heat from his body.  That was a luxury that she was no longer entitled to.  She had given up that right when she walked out the door of their home.  She shuddered again and hugged her arms about herself more tightly.  To think that she might never have that again chilled her soul.

Teddy dropped his arm onto her shoulders, more out of desperation than anything else, and pulled her closer.  He couldn’t bear it when she was cold.  Somehow it meant that he wasn’t taking care of her.  Well, that was certainly true right now.  How long had it been since he had last been there for her when she really needed him?

Emily exhaled and moved into the embrace, “Thanks,” she whispered gently.  She knew he didn’t hear her.  It was a relief to her that he was still willing to be with her; that was something they could build upon.

The cab finally stopped and Emily reached for her purse out of habit.  She never took cabs with Teddy, he always had a car.  So when she was in one, she was used to paying.  His hand moved quickly and stopped her.  He handed over a bill she hadn’t seen or felt him remove from his wallet, and helped her out, onto the sidewalk.  Oddly enough, Teddy didn’t usually pay for things - he never seemed to have to.  She pulled her key out of her purse instead and stepped up the two concrete stairs to her door.  She felt him behind her and realized that it was a comfort to have him there.  She had returned to her flat last evening just after dark and wondered idly if it was really safe to be out and about alone in this rather questionable area of town.  His body behind her was reassuring.

She used her shoulder to push open the heavy door.  It had a bit of a trick to it – you had to pull the handle and lock toward you while you turned and pushed at the same time.  She grabbed the mail from the floor and then stood up.  He still stood on the doorstep, waiting for an invitation.  That said something; he realized at least a bit of what was going on.  “Come on up,” she offered, trying to be as congenial and casual as possible, in spite of the reticence she felt.  She shut and locked the door behind him, throwing the hallway abruptly into shadow.  He let her precede him up the flight of stairs.

She tossed her keys and purse onto a chair at the top of the stairs and turned to face him, his coat was still around her shoulders.  “Well, this is it,” she waved her hand at the open area they stood in.  She hated to take his coat off, but did and hung both it and her own up in the wardrobe, feeling its absence from her shoulders keenly.

Teddy stepped forward slowly.  It was beautiful, absolutely beautiful.  The light seemed to shimmer here, in warm, golden waves.  Motes of dust spangled as they swirled about him.  The rain had stopped as they drove, and now the warmth of the July sun was returning.  “The light is incredible,” he said softly.  He stepped in further and stood in the center of the open living area.  “Whose place is this?”  He desperately hoped they wanted to sell.  Hell, he would make sure they sold.  This was an ideal studio.

Emily smiled to herself in satisfaction; she had known he would appreciate the light, and she also knew he would want to buy it.  She still knew that much about the man in front of her.  He would buy a whole house for one good window.  “Mine,” she said.  He turned around in front of her and she saw the confused look in his eyes, “It’s not for sale.”  Her grin widened.

“Yours?  But how?” his forehead creased in confusion.  How long had she owned this?  Had she planned to leave him all along?

Emily made herself move forward to stand with him, “I’ve been married to you for thirty-eight years.  I learned how to buy real estate too, you know.”  She touched his arm gently, stroking a line from his bicep to his wrist, “It was supposed to be a surprise for you.  I suppose it is…” she let her voice trail off to nothing.  Her fingers still rested on his hand, touching his wedding ring.  She couldn’t help but touch him, somehow.  There had been a connection there once, a need to touch and be touched.  There had been reassurance in contact, rather than reticence.

“Rather,” he murmured.  He stepped closer and took her hand, “Please don’t leave me, Emily?” his voice was broken, but he was finally saying what he needed to.  “I’ll do anything you want me to.  I’ll sell the house, we can move back to the Island, whatever…” he shook his head.  “Just don’t leave me?”  He felt somehow like he should get down on his knees and beg for this.  It was worth it, if that was what it would take.

Emily dropped her head and looked at the hand that held hers.  She squeezed it in spite of herself and shut her eyes.  “I can’t do it, Teddy.  I can’t live like that.  We were lost to one another.  I can’t…”  The tears fell onto their clasped hands.  She didn’t continue.  She had to get a hold of herself!  She couldn’t give in just because he held her hand, as much as she wanted to.

“Oh God, love…” he pressed his lips into her hair and threaded his fingers into it.  “I’m so sorry.”

They stood that way for a long time.  Finally she lifted her head and looked at him.  She touched his cheek gently with her free hand, “I didn’t want to leave you.  I tried to tell you, but…” she shook her head.  “It was like talking to a stranger; you never heard me.  You never even heard that it was me talking to you.  I can’t do it… I can’t live with someone I don’t know.”

“You know me, Emily,” he whispered.  “You know every fiber of my being.”  He desperately wanted to kiss her and make this all go away, but something inside him knew that even if they made love it would not make any difference, only cloud the issue and make everything more difficult for them both.  They had to settle this completely before anything else would really work.

“Do I?” she asked quietly.  “I did, once, but I don’t know now.  That scares me.  I can’t give myself to someone I don’t know, Teddy.”  Physically it was her husband who stood in front of her, and she felt that he was hearing her now, but what about when the rest was in the way?  Were they strong enough to fight that?  She might as well say it.  “I need you.  I don’t need houses and cars and business and money.  That means nothing to me.”

“It was all I had,” his voice was a whisper.

Emily shook her head, “You had me.  You’ve always had me.”  He still had her.  This was what she feared more than anything – why she hadn’t wanted to do this in private.  What if they couldn’t work this out?  If he didn’t understand that she was there for him, none of this could happen.  And yet, ‘whistle and I’ll come to you, my lad’ had never been more true for her than it was right now.  But she couldn’t lose herself in that again.  She wouldn’t survive it.

He shook his head, “I don’t know how to say this to you.  It hurts so much.”  He took a deep breath and tried anyway, “I’ve failed you too many times, Emily.  I couldn’t turn to you when I was never strong enough to be what you needed.”  He looked at her in desperation.  He kissed the hand that rested on his cheek.  He couldn’t help but touch her.

“What on earth are you talking about?”  Here it was.  For the first time since their son was killed, he was opening up to her.  “You have never failed me, ever… at least not before this.  Teddy what is it?”  Whatever it was had nearly torn their life apart.

“You lost two children because of me!” he blurted.  “How can you ever forgive a man who…”

“Teddy!” she grabbed him into her arms and held onto him.  “No!”

He set her away, gently, and walked toward the windows that looked out at the river.  He didn’t see anything real through the blur of his tears.  He remembered coming home that night and seeing Jed.  He remembered standing in the hallway and reading the telegram about Frank.  It was those things that he saw instead of the view in front of him.  It was the ultimate failure.  He had failed the woman he loved when he let a part of her die.

“I _have_ four children because of you,” Emily said gently – the italics were completely necessary.  “ _We_ have four children.  We have four grandchildren.  That’s joy Teddy, not failure.  Don’t ever call our children a failure.”  She never spoke of their boys in the past tense.  She never had.

He turned to look at her.  There was nothing left but to finish it now, “I should have saved them,” he whispered.  Saying it out loud hurt, but it was a clean cut, keen and bright with pain.  It was not the festering, agonizing guilt that had consumed him for the last nine years.

Emily felt her knees crumple and she slid down to the floor.  How could she have not seen this?  This was everything she had thought and felt.  How could she not know that her husband, the man who had made their children with her, would not feel the same way?  “How did I not see this?” she whispered, more to herself than to him.  How many times had she thought the very same thing?  How many times had she wanted to go back and feed Jed more often, give him more strength to fight it with?  How many times had she wished that she understood the date she wrote in her diary years before it happened?  December 7th, 1941 – the day the world as they knew it changed.

It was work just to exist.  He had to make himself live through the pain.  He had to take the air in and let it out, consciously.  As he did, he realized that something had lifted, some unconscious weight was gone.  Breathing came easier.  The tears slowed.  He opened his eyes and looked at his wife.  She sat in the middle of the floor in a band of light from the windows, staring at him with a look that he understood.  She was offering him everything she had.  She was giving and he knew that he had to take.  This was his one and only lifeline.

She watched as he crossed the floor and sat down beside her.  She leaned against him and let him hold her.  She let him past the wall again.  He kissed her slowly and she kissed him back.  There was no need to rush this now.  Whatever was going to happen next didn’t matter.  There was only now and there was only them – together again.

 

She arched against him in the bed that had seemed so lonely to her this morning.  “I don’t remember…” she whispered the words close to his ear and held him closer.  “Oh God, I can’t remember,” she shut her eyes and the tears came quickly, hot against her cheeks, hotter than his lips on her skin as they kissed them away.

“What?  Honey, what don’t you remember?”  It was all familiar to him; every inch of her was mapped in his hands.  He could trace every line, every contour, cover her in color and turn her tears into light.  And yet, it was never the perfection he felt inside her.

She held his face in her hands and looked at him, gulping it back so she could speak, “Sometimes I can’t remember what they looked like, but then I look at you and I see them.  I don’t remember the last time you held me like this.  I can’t live like that, ever again.”  She knew he understood when he moved inside her.

“Remember,” he rasped and gathered her into his arms.  “We’ll never forget again.”

 

 

 


	5. "Just Give Me A Reason"

_“Just give me a reason,_   
_Just a little bit's enough_   
_Just a second, we're not broken_   
_Just bent we can learn to LOVE again._   
_Oh, it's in the stars,_   
_It's been written in the scars on our hearts_   
_We're NOT broken_   
_Just bent and we can learn to love again.”_

_\- Pink – “Just Give Me A Reason”_

He looked across the table at her.  Her hair fell past her shoulders in its inky curtain over the white of his dress shirt.  She’d pulled it on, along with a pair of jeans he recognized as his own when she left the bed to make them something to eat.  He had put his suit pants back on and found a cotton t-shirt that belonged to him in her closet.  It was late.  He didn’t care what time it was, really, but the sun was setting beyond the river and the room was rose gold in its fading light.  Emily was lit from behind with soft, glimmering warmth.  He sipped at the wine she had poured for him.  Although she drank mostly red wine at home, this was a sweeter, Spanish white.  It went well with the pasta she made.  He couldn’t remember the last time she had cooked dinner for them.  Some summer at Cashlin, he imagined.  That was the only place they didn’t have servants to do it for them.  “This was delicious,” he said quietly.  “Thank you.”

She held her glass to her lips and looked across it at him as she took a sip.  Teddy had not changed much in all of their years together but like her own, his hair had silvered.  The lines around his eyes were deeper, as hers were.  She didn’t care about any of that.  They had both earned their years.  “You’re welcome,” she murmured.  She looked at the sketchbook that sat beside his elbow on the table.  He had asked her for something to draw on while she made dinner.  Of course, she had his favorite kind of sketchbook and pencil.  When she was decorating the loft she bought everything she thought he might need to work.  “What made you start again?” she asked the question quietly.

He told her about the painting he found and about how he had just needed to let it out somehow.  “I’m rusty,” he shook his head.  “Really rusty.  I used to be able to do this without thinking and now I have to work at it.  It’s getting easier though, the more I do it,” he looked up at her.  “The first thing I drew was you.”

That didn’t really surprise her.  He had seldom painted anything without her in it.  She shrugged, “The old familiar, huh?”  She pushed her plate away and stared out the window.  These windows only opened at the very top, using levered crank handles.  She did rather wish that she could open more of them, but then again, this was New York City.  The noise and the smells of the city were not exactly what she might hear and smell at home.  Maybe it was better this way.  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him take up the pencil and begin to draw.  She froze.  He didn’t typically need her to sit for him, but she wanted to encourage this as much as possible.  When she saw him set the pencil down and look at his work, she relaxed.  “You’ve done that one so many times.  Don’t you ever get bored?”  There was a smile in her voice.  She raked her hands through her hair and twisted it down her back.  She knew he liked it down like this, but it was a bit annoying and in the way.

“Nothing about you bores me, Emily,” he looked at her with an intensity that he knew she understood.  “But to answer your question, I suppose it’s like an exercise to me.  I know what it is that I want to capture and I have to make sure that I still can.”  He laid the sketchbook down and leaned back in the chair, letting his legs rest against hers under the table.

She might have taken offense at his comment, but she knew that none was intended.  In reality, there was a lot of her that he did own.  “Capture… Hmm…  A pirate’s bride, am I?” she chuckled and took another sip of her wine.  She leaned back too and set her feet up on the corner of his chair. 

“Would that it were so!  Then we could just escape to the high seas and never have to deal with this world,” he stroked the line of her ankle gently.  He knew that her left ankle bothered her sometimes; the remnants of the old injury reared their ugly head in damp weather.  He massaged it lightly with one hand and took up his pencil in the other to draw a pirate ship with a skull and crossbones atop the mast.  Of course, Emily was the figurehead.

That was her Teddy talking, and it made her more than happy.  This Teddy was the one she had fallen in love with so many years ago; the one who could spin a yarn as well as she could, just in a different format.  But, reality did exist.  She set her lips and looked at him, “And what about this world?”  They hadn’t talked about specifics before.  It was enough that they knew they could be together again.  But it did need to be worked out, somehow.

Teddy nodded, “You tell me what you want and it’s yours.”  He knew that sounded proprietary and pretentious.  She had made it more than clear that material things were not of value to her.  He looked at her and spoke again, “I can’t live without you.  I realized that.  I’d give you the world Emily, but I realize that isn’t what you want.  You tell me and I’ll make it happen.”  He took her hand and held it tightly.

She looked at him evenly.  “I need you, my work, the children and the grandchildren.”  There was more to it, actually, but she wanted to see what he said to the most minimal.

He nodded, “Okay then, I’ll sell the house.  We can live wherever you want to, with the grandchildren or without them.  Robin really needs to look after her own family anyway.”  Somehow that didn’t seem like the right answer.  He looked up at Emily and saw her shake her head.

“That’s not realistic,” she looked at him.  “You can’t just drop it all and move; I know that.”  She cleared her throat, “And Robin…” she shook her head in confusion, “I just wish it was different for her.  I don’t understand him at all.  How is it fair that she has to deal with it all on her own?”  They had talked about their daughter’s troubles before.  That was one line of communication that they had managed to keep open over the past nine years.  Neither of them could really understand what had happened with Anthony.

“I know,” Teddy agreed, “But should it really be us that has to deal with it?”  He loved the grandkids.  They had been the only laughter in the house for years now.  But now that he and Emily had found this renewal in their relationship he wasn’t sure how they would manage it.  He sensed, somehow, that she would want more time alone with him.  He was more than willing to oblige, so long as they could make it all work for the grandkids.  He knew his daughter only too well; she was not able, and frankly not willing, to take care of her children full time.

“I know what you mean,” she nodded and then picked up her wine and stood up.  She walked over to the sitting area that was delineated by couches and an area rug.  She sat down in the corner of a caramel-colored distressed leather sofa and urged him to join her.  “I’m getting too old for it.”  She hadn’t really thought about it much before coming here, but it was true.  The demanding schedules the children kept and the constant need for activity and teaching was a drain.  Jon and Morgan were an enormous help, whenever they were home.  But, that was becoming the exception, rather than the norm.  Both of Robin’s older children were incredibly bright.

Jonathan was quieter about it, but he was insightful and took his time with everything.  The results were brilliant.  He started his undergraduate studies at Harvard when he was only sixteen.  That wasn’t unheard of – there were a number of phenoms in his class, as a matter of fact.  What distinguished him was his quiet and methodical approach to everything he did.  He was not rash or a risk-taker.  He was born to be a lawyer.  He did not take after his father in any great degree, at least that Emily could notice.  Nature versus nurture had nurture win undoubtedly in his case.  He had a bit of a temper, when he was provoked, but so did everyone in their house.  Like both she and Teddy, he usually brooded over things when he was upset about them.  As a result, he was the quiet one.

Morgan was the opposite in her approach to things.  She was out-going and vibrant – the first to dance and the first to laugh.  She was also quick and instinctive in her work.  She made split-second decisions and acted on them without regret or thought of recourse.  In that way, she was like her mother.  But she also had something that Robin didn’t have.  She was grounded in academic study.  She was a voracious reader and a decent writer – the only thing her brother was noticeably better at.  She attended Bryn Mawr and then went on to Columbia, beginning her studies at fourteen.  That was an exception; she was a girl and gifted.  However, with a bit of encouragement from Teddy, the admissions department had accepted her into their classical studies program.  She finished her degree in three years and was now reading avante garde 20th Century poetry and Freud, teaching herself calculus and Mandarin, and taking the New York debutante scene on as an extra-curricular activity.

Teddy (the younger) was a musician.  Of all Robin’s children, he was the one that she spent the most time with and could understand best.  Although she encouraged all of her children to learn to read music and play the piano, he was the only one of the four who was truly gifted.  He was a brilliant sight-reader, and was studying at Julliard with their best teachers.  Robin would fly in to check on his progress and chart his course for the next set of lessons, and then let him develop.  At eight, he had already won every amateur competition in his age category, and was now working on repertoire for his third major recital.  The only thing holding him back from further academic study was his age.  He had learned to read (words that is) somewhat later than his two elder siblings, so was playing catch up with Dick and Jane.

Arthur was six.  He wanted to be a writer.  Emily recognized that in him immediately.  She could hardly not – he followed her around constantly and would sit for hours in her work room writing while she did the same.  Although she had to laugh at some of his spelling and grammatical errors, there were some rather eloquent lines buried amid all of the juvenile rambling.  She tried to be honest with him whenever possible.  That often resulted in tears of anguish and distress, but he never gave up.  He was also the only one of the four who had any of Teddy’s gift.  (Frank had it too.  He might have been a painter like his father.)  Arthur’s was subtle and more along the lines of sketch and caricature, but he was still young, after all.

The four of them were a handful!  There was never a dull moment, certainly.  Emily had discovered over time that she needed to work more consistently in the daytime.  Her traditional all-night writing binges were harder on her than they had once been, especially if she had to be up and about all day.  Her eyesight had never bothered her, particularly, but she did need glasses to read and write now and it seemed to be more difficult in the evenings than it had been before.  Although experience helped with some of the parenting issues she faced with her grandchildren, she often desperately wished that she were forty years younger, just to keep up with them all!

Teddy sat down beside her and pulled her legs up over his.  They had always sat this way.  “You’re not too old.  You are as beautiful as the day we were married.  You look exactly the same, trust me.”

“Ha!  Now I know you’ve flattered me all these years!” she smiled at him and leaned back against the sofa.  “Remember when I wrote “The Woman Who Spanked the King?” she asked, reminding him of her first really successful story.  When he nodded, she continued, “Mistress MacIntyre was seventy when she told me the story and she was an old woman.  I’m sixty-five, Teddy.  It isn’t that far off now.”  She looked at her husband directly, “Even Laura was a bit of a stretch for us, you know that.”  Their youngest child had been born just after Emily’s 43rd birthday, in 1928.  There were fourteen years between Robin and her sister.  The two boys were in the middle – Jed in 1919 and Frank in 1922.  They never called Laura an accident, but unexpected was definitely the proper description.

He nodded, “So?”  He needed her to tell him what to do.  He made the assumption that she wanted to live in New York in a beautiful, enormous house and be a part of the upper class society.  He made the assumption that he could buy her every beautiful thing in the world and make her happy.  He had made some very incorrect assumptions and would now do anything to make up for that.

She shrugged, “So we have to make some compromises.  No more terminal houseguests.  We have to put some limits on the parties.  Robin needs to take the kids sometimes on her own; they barely know her!  And you and I need to get to Cashlin for at least a couple of months a year.”  She took a sip of wine and then looked at him, “I know you can’t just drop all of the business.  That would be impossible and impractical.  But if you’re working again – really working, you won’t have time for it all.  Is there any way to back off a bit?”  She didn’t understand what he did, really.  It was all just paperwork to her, incomprehensible to the uninitiated.  She had never considered that his real work, or even an occupation.  It was more like a hobby, or a necessary evil that came with some of the privilege that they enjoyed.  She did not deny that she and Teddy had a wonderful life and were extraordinarily lucky to have everything that they did.  She did not want to seem ungrateful, but on the other hand, she could no longer live that way.

“Absolutely,” he nodded.  “I have to start saying no to new offers and start selling some of the things that aren’t worth the time.  I agree with you, I both want and need time to work again and I need time to spend with you.”  He took her hand and kissed her wedding ring, “I won’t ever leave you like I did.  I promise.”

They could figure it out.  She knew that now.  They just had to start somewhere, and now was as good a time as any.

 

 

 


	6. "He Won't Go"

_“There will be times, we'll try and give it up_

_Bursting at the seams, no doubt_

_We'll almost fall apart then burn the pieces_

_To watch them turn to dust but nothing will ever taint us_

_I won't go_

_I can't do it on my own_

_If this ain't love then what is?_

_I'm willing to take the risk.”_

_\- Adele – “He Won’t Go”_

 

The Kents had never been much for crowds, in spite of the lifestyle and reputation they had cultivated over the past twenty years.  Both were just as happy to spend an evening alone as they were to go out and mingle with others.  Over the following weeks, they took the time to get to know one another again.  Staying at Emily’s flat in the Village was the best place for it.  There was no history there – good or bad.  They spent hours together talking, working, and evenings both out and at home.  Teddy took his wife to the Village Vanguard to hear the jazz music she loved so much, and to hold her in his arms on the dance floor.  Sometimes they would come home and keep dancing.

They spoke to Robin and she took her children with her to Vienna for a month.  Although it might be more difficult to record her music with children in tow, she knew that her parents needed the time alone.  Emily called Laura in Africa and reassured her that everything would be alright.  Emily had not returned to Willomere since leaving and Teddy had only been once, to remove the erstwhile houseguests and gather some things that he needed.

Teddy stared at the sketch on the table in front of him and put down his pen.  He looked out the window and watched a barge inch up the river.  The afternoon was bright and the water sparkled as the light bounced on it.  He heard Emily in the kitchen and turned to look at her.  One of the things that he loved the most about this space, besides the incredible light, was that everything was out in the open.  There was no hiding anything here.  It was symbolic, really, in a good way.  He watched his wife as she gathered the things she needed for their evening meal.  He had forgotten how much he loved her cooking.  He had grown far too accustomed to eating in restaurants and the elaborate meals that their chefs put together for them.  Emily’s food reminded him of home.  He looked back at the sketch he had just done.  Aileen Kent looked out at her son from beyond the veil.  He had been thinking about his mother a lot over the past few days, for some reason.  He had sketched her a few times in his career, but was never quite satisfied with the results.  He realized now, in this brilliant afternoon light, that perhaps the medium was wrong.  Emily’s persona could handle ink or pencil or charcoal, but his mother’s could not.  The lines were less clear, blurred by memory, years, and by his mother’s personality.  Aileen Kent had never been black and white, but rather muted shades of secondary colors, the lines less clear and defined.  When he thought of his mother, he never thought of her in anything but pastels.  He hadn’t done a water color in years, but he made the decision to do that now.

“Hey love,” he slipped behind his wife and hugged her, resting his chin on her shoulder.  They fit together as well as they always had.  “I need to go shopping.”  He looked at the array of food on the counter and determined that they were having a roast for dinner.  He loved the way she cooked roast, with lots of Marsala wine and vegetables all simmered together.

Emily looked up at him and brushed her lips across his cheek, “Shopping?  What on earth for?”  She set her knife down and wiped her hands on the tea towel.

“You said there was an art store up the street a bit, didn’t you?” he leaned against the counter and picked up a piece of raw carrot.

Emily nodded, “Yes, just a few blocks up 18th.  I don’t know what they have, though.”  She went back to chopping vegetables as they spoke.

Teddy had gone through paper at an alarming rate over the past two weeks.  Most he threw away, but some he kept and added detail to.  There were even a few he had let her see.  He was working hard, that was obvious.  He had not ignored his business deals either, but had so far only spent two mornings at his office on Wall Street catching up on things.  He brought contracts and statements home, but only read them when he was finished his other work for the day.  Even he had been surprised at how quickly he was able to lighten his workload.  Really, it impressed upon him how unimportant his work had been.

“Do you need anything while I’m out?” he grabbed another carrot.

Emily shrugged, “Some more wine would be nice.  We seem to be going through it like water.”  She smiled up at him.  The evenings they spent at home usually included at least one bottle of wine and often champagne, scotch, or absinthe too.  It was getting a bit decadent, but it was enjoyable.  It was like a vacation with a lot of work being accomplished.  Actually, it was a lot like their life had been when they were first married.  Although Emily had not varied her routine much, without the grandchildren’s schedules thrown in to keep her occupied in the daytime, she was able to get a lot more done and have her evenings free to spend with her husband.

He nodded, “I won’t be long.”  He kissed her quickly, stole another carrot and took his leave.

 

 


	7. "History Repeating"

_“Some people don't dance, if they don't know who's singing,_   
_why ask your head, it's your hips that are swinging_   
_life's for us to enjoy_   
_woman, man, girl and boy,_   
_feel the pain, feel the joy_   
_aside set the little bits of history repeating”_

_\- Propellerheads – “History Repeating”_

 

He stepped out onto the street in his jeans and a shirt, unbuttoned without a tie.  His hands were stained with ink and he carried his sketchbook under his arm.  He slowed his pace as he entered the busier part of the Village.  There were people everywhere on the street.  Their flat was relatively cool, catching every possible breeze off the river with large fans in the ceiling to circulate the air, but it was humid and sticky heat that bore down on the city in general.  He stopped to watch some children playing hopscotch.  He remembered when their kids had played this game.  Robin had learned with the Millers in their driveway in Charlottetown and taught Frank.  Laura had learned, oddly enough, from Jon and Morgan.  He drew the lines quickly and the scene took shape on his page.  When he was working he had very little concept of time, so he didn’t notice that the sun had shifted its position until the children made their final throw and then scampered home to dinner.  He stopped working and looked at his watch: 6:00.  He hurried up the street and found the art store.  Luckily they were still open.  He slipped inside and nodded at the proprietor, who was talking to a younger man at the counter.  Teddy found what he needed easily and then came up to the front to pay for his purchase.

“No idea,” the man behind the counter said.  “Haven’t seen anything in years.”

The younger man shrugged, “Just a rumor I guess.”

Teddy had not heard anything except the last part of their conversation.  He smiled absently and looked at the issue of the magazine that they were inspecting.  He was surprised to see one of his own works on the open page.  It was one of the series of war retrospectives he had done with Emily in the 20’s.

“You might want to look at the ones that come in the sets over there,” the clerk said.

Teddy looked up, “Hmm?”  Had they been talking about him?  He looked at the younger man with interest.  He had two huge cans of gesso and some pure pigment oils.

“This is tube watercolor.  Most people don’t use it to start out.  You might get better results with something that you can have more control over,” the clerk nodded toward the display of pan paint sets.  “We have some classes, if you’re interested?”  He hadn’t seen this one before, but new ones came in every day.  Everybody thought they could be an artist these days!  This one was up-town, for sure, you could tell by the hand-tailored shirt.  Probably retired and looking for a hobby.

Teddy blinked and then realized that they had no idea who he was.  That was good and bad, he guessed.  “Thanks, but these are my favorite.”  He looked over at the other artist, “May I ask what you are working on?”  He set his sketchbook down and pulled out his wallet to pay for his supplies.

The man shrugged, “The usual.”  He leaned against the counter, “You must be new around here.”

Teddy handed the clerk a hundred dollar bill.  He was running out of cash and would have to make a stop at the bank next time he went to the office; he needed some smaller bills.  “Sort of, we just finished our loft here a few months ago.  We’ve been on Long Island for twenty-four years.”  He looked at the clerk, “Just put the change on credit, I’m sure I’ll be back.”

The man nodded in confusion, “Sure.”  Most people who came in couldn’t afford what they were trying to buy, let alone paying in advance.  A c-note?  Long Island?  Up-town for sure!

“Jackson Pollock,” the man set down his paint and offered his hand.

Teddy shook it, “Right!  That’s why all the gesso!  Nice exhibit last year.  My daughter bought one of your paintings.  She adores that fluidity of line; likens it to Schumann somehow.”  Well!  Now this was interesting.  He hadn’t talked with another artist in years.  Abstract wasn’t his thing, but he admired the way this man balanced his shape and color and the technique was rather unique.

The man shrugged again, “Yeah.  And you are?”  There was something familiar about this man.  That and he knew what he was talking about with art.  He noticed that he had included the proper primer in his purchase.  He had also purchased the highest grade of brushes without even thinking about it.  He had no idea how his own work compared to some dead composer though. 

“Frederick Kent,” Teddy said and nodded to the clerk.  “My wife might come in to pick things up for me.  Let me know if I owe you anything, okay?”

“You’re THE Frederick Kent?  This one?” he held up the magazine.

Teddy shrugged, “That one, yes.  I’m afraid I have been out of it for a bit, but I’m trying to get back into the swing of things.”  He gathered his purchases and sketchbook and nodded to the other two men.  “Where can I pick up a decent bottle of Sancerre around here?”

Pollock scrunched his forehead, “That’s wine, right?”  When Teddy nodded, he gestured his head toward the door, “I can show you, if you like?  I’m a bit of a regular at the liquor store.  Thanks Mort, see you Friday at the Van?”

The shop clerk nodded and followed them to the door to lock up behind them.  He still held the magazine and asked, “Would you sign this?”  He offered it to Teddy.

“Sure,” he nodded and did so quickly.  “Get Em to sign it when she comes in too, then you’ll have the matched pair.  Thanks again!”  He left the shop with the other artist and they headed back the way Teddy had come.  They spoke intermittently about the abstract trend that was so popular, and of which Pollock was a harbinger.  Teddy bought two bottles of something that he thought might resemble the wine they usually had with beef and waited as the other man paid for a bottle of a stronger spirit.  When they stepped out onto the street again, Teddy offered, “Would you like to come up for dinner?  I think it’s pot roast and there’s always enough for an army.”  He hoped that his new acquaintance would accept the invitation.  It had been a long time since he had a contemporary to talk to.  Emily was wonderful, of course, but she wasn’t an artist.

Pollock agreed instantly.  It wasn’t every day that you met an icon of realism on the street.  Kent had, as he had put it, been ‘out of it’ for a time, but his work was still as well-regarded as it was scarce.  What was out there was holed up in private collections or on loan to galleries.  Most of the bigger pieces were completely off the market, and many of the best works had only been shown once and then disappeared.  He imagined it might have been the war that had taken him away from art, but he wasn’t sure.  He followed the artist up a set of stairs in a converted warehouse.  He had passed this place a dozen times and always wondered who ended up buying it.  These renos were common now, but you had to have a lot of cash to make them worthwhile.

“Hey you!” Emily met her husband at the top of the stairs.  She kissed him gently, “You got your shopping done, I see?”  She took the bottles of wine from him.

“Yeah.  Emily, this is Jackson Pollock.  Jackson, my wife,” he hugged her gently to his side.  It was the first time he had introduced her since she left.  It gave him a bit of a thrill to know that she was still his wife.

“Good evening, Mr. Pollock, it’s a pleasure,” Emily offered her hand to the other man.  “Our daughter is a fan of your work.”  She shook his hand and then added, “I hope you’ll stay for dinner?”

“Absolutely,” he nodded emphatically.  The part of him that wanted to open the bottle of rye was overshadowed by the prospect of dinner with these two.  He had read her work, mostly in conjunction with her husband’s art.  He wasn’t the type to read poetry, typically, but this was completely different.  He looked around him curiously.  Their loft was massive – probably the entire top floor of the place.  It was completely finished too.  The light was incredible and there was a lot of open space to work in.  Must be nice!  They were a bit archaic with their formality too.  No one around here stood on ceremony – he was never ‘Mr. Pollock’.  He sank down onto the sofa as his host and hostess reorganized things slightly in preparation for dinner.  He looked for art.  It was always interesting to see what other artists hung on their walls.  There was an oil painting of the ocean and a lighthouse on the dividing wall.  He rose to look at it.  It was good, but he didn’t recognize the name – Michael Gardiner.

“My grandfather,” Teddy said in explanation.  “Would you like some wine?”  He offered a glass and then stood beside the other artist and took a sip, tentatively, from his own.  It was a bid acrid, barely tolerable.  Emily would much prefer something else.

Pollock moved on to the next framed painting, “Manet?  Wow!”  _The Café Concert_ was relatively well-known, but he had never seen a print of it.  He blinked when he realized that this was not a print.  The next along the line was a Goya, then a framed sheet of papyrus with Egyptian hieroglyphs on it.  The last was a brilliantly hued Monet.  Every bit of it was real.  “This is an amazing collection.”  He looked at his new friend in astonishment.

“It’s Emily’s.  She has no qualms about hanging the competition when she likes it,” he smiled over at his wife, who was setting the food out on the table.  He saw her take a sip of wine, grimace and walk back to the sink to pour it out.  She pulled a bottle out of the cabinet and opened it instead.  “Everything’s ready when you are,” she smiled at Teddy and moved back toward the table.

The dinner conversation was a bit perverse, at least from Emily’s perspective.  Half the time they were talking in a language she did not understand – pigments and proportions, binders and balance.  She just sat back and let Teddy enjoy the company of his new friend.  He needed this; anything that would encourage his work was well worth it.  She tried to remember the last time they had dinner with another artist and couldn’t.  So much of their entertaining in New York was either about his business deals or her writing.  That would need to change.  It would be good for him to talk to someone who was new in the field.  Pollock obviously had a bit of a problem with alcohol, but other than that, he was a nice young man.  She imagined he might be somewhere around Robin’s age.  She looked out the window and took a sip of her wine.  The way the sky was layered tonight was exquisite.  Strata of purple and gold filled the horizon over the river.  Emily let her flash come to her.  It hadn’t happened since she moved here and she welcomed its return.

“You married her!” Pollock exclaimed suddenly.  Both Emily and Teddy looked at him curiously.

“Pardon?” Teddy’s forehead creased.  Pollock had drained the first bottle of wine and was working on the second.  He was more than a bit under the influence now, but at least someone wanted to drink the stuff.

“You married the Smiling Girl!” he exclaimed again.

Emily sighed and then smiled slightly, “Once upon a time, I suppose, but just Emily now.”  She knew that Teddy did not like it when people constantly compared all of his work to one painting.  Da Vinci might feel the same way, she imagined, although she could hardly be compared to La Giaconda.

“Well I couldn’t very well let anyone else, now could I?”  Teddy took her hand across the table and smiled at Pollock.

Their conversation continued, and Pollock finished the second bottle easily.  Emily cleared the dishes away and tidied up in the kitchen while her husband spoke about technique with his friend.  She wiped off the counter and refilled her own glass with something drinkable.  It was well past midnight now and she had work to do.  She padded across the floor and touched her husband’s shoulder lightly, “I’m off to work.  Do you need anything?”

He shook his head and squeezed her hand, “We’re fine - won’t be much longer though, this old man is getting a bit weary.”  He smiled at his friend companionably.  Although he was a bit caustic and strange at first, Pollock was an interesting artist.  He had very strong opinions about traditional forms and media.  Although Teddy doubted that he would change anything in his own work, it was good to hear ideas that were more current than his own.  It was also nice to open their home to guests they really wanted to be with.  Although they were infamous for their hospitality at Willomere, they rarely had time to actually speak to their guests on a personal level.  This was so much more intimate and enjoyable.

“Nice to have met you, Mr. Pollock,” Emily nodded at their guest and then headed to the huge work table that occupied the corner of the loft beside their bed.  She set her wine down and opened her journal to write down the description of the clouds that she had seen at dinner.  As soon as her pen touched the paper, she ceased to hear anything beyond the circle of light created by her desk lamp.

 

“Done soon?”  Teddy slid his hands over his wife’s shoulders and moved his thumbs in circles beside the cord at the base of her neck.  There was a beautiful line there.  You caught it most obviously if she turned her head to look over her shoulder.  He had drawn that more times than he could remember.  He spotted a pin in her hair and pulled it out.  The others came out easily, until all of it fell into his hands.

Emily shut her eyes.  She wasn’t anywhere near done, but it could wait.  That was something she had realized over the past weeks: she needed to be more aware of when Teddy needed her.  They had always had opposite schedules, but they had become particularly disjunctive over the past few years.  She did not want anything like that to happen again and was making a conscious effort to be more available for him when he wanted and needed her to be.  “Dispense with the acolyte, did you?”  She let her shoulders relax under his hands and leaned back to rest her head on his chest.  There were moments when she was terribly glad that she was not all Murray.

“Hardly that,” he murmured in her ear.  “But yes, I sent him off in a cab somewhere.”  He spread her hair out with his hands and smoothed it gently.  He never quite managed to paint how her hair felt.  Somehow that escaped him, no matter how hard he tried.  He couldn’t get the texture just perfect.  But then again, Emily told him once that she had to have at least a few secrets from him.  He looked over her shoulder at what she was working on.  He didn’t generally read anything she wrote unless she offered it.  Something drew his eyes beyond the current page to a typed one that lay beside what she was working on now.  He skimmed it and was shocked by what he read.  He moved one hand away from her and pulled it out to read it again.  “What is this?” he asked.

Emily took a deep breath.  She thought about showing it to him tonight, but reconsidered when their company arrived.  This was not something they could talk about in the presence of others.  “What do you think?”  She swiveled her chair around and looked up at him.

He dropped down into the chair beside her desk and looked over at her.  “Please tell me that you don’t mean this?”  His heart was hammering in his chest.  He thought that things were better and now this?  He had given her every piece of his heart that was there to give.  How could she still feel this way?

She tilted her head to the side and brushed her hair away from her face, slowly.  She was tired.  It was a good time to stop.  She took off her glasses and folded them precisely, then shut off the desk lamp, throwing the room into shadow.  The only light came from the sconces above the artwork.  “Of course I meant it.  I can’t write what I don’t feel.  I never could.”  She looked at him and saw the look of absolute terror on his face, amplified by the darkness of the windows behind him.  “What?”

“I thought…  I thought it was better.  I thought we worked it out?”  He looked at her in disbelief.  “How can you mean this now?”  Everything in his world came grinding to a halt.  It was a poem about loss.  It was clear exactly what loss she was referring to.  _“Our bed is cold and his heart is numb.”_   The line stabbed him with its stark reality, also with its very personal and physical subject matter.  Emily never wrote like that.

“It is, and we did,” she said, quietly.  “I wrote that before… well…”  She looked away from him and stared at the wall in front of her.  This side of the dividing wall had art on it too, Pollock just hadn’t seen it.  No one had, besides the two of them.  There was a Renoir, a Michaelangelo sketch, and three of Teddy’s – a landscape of France that he’d done on their honeymoon, a pen and ink sketch of their Cashlin, and one of her.  She rose and went to stand in front of the one he called _The Artist’s_.  He had never shown it, at her request.  When she decorated the flat, she went into their vault of artwork and picked the ones she thought suited the space best.  This one was meant to give him something, some inspiration.  When she left Willomere, she also felt like it belonged here.  Letting him have that part of her when they were estranged would not be right.  She touched the signature in the corner with the tips of her fingers.  She turned to him, “Do you remember when I saw this for the first time?”

He nodded, slowly.  How could he not remember that day?  They just found out that they were expecting Jed and they were so connected after returning from the war and France.  He had shown it to her out of respect for her opinion and to make sure it was alright that he continue with it.  She hadn’t liked it at first; felt that too much of herself was on display for the world.  He felt that way about the poem he just read.  It was too personal, too descriptive.  Perhaps she wanted his opinion on it.  She wasn’t angry or upset at him and she had used the past tense.  Maybe…

Emily took a deep breath.  “I wrote that when it was everything I could do just to keep from crying every time I saw you.  I had to put it on paper; I had to deal with it somehow.  It must be hard for you to read it.”  It had been hard for her to write it - almost impossible.  It was done in the white nights while he was away on business of some sort or other; the nights when she would have given anything in the world just to have her husband to talk to.  The words came in the most difficult way possible, cloaked as all of the things she thought she would never have the chance to say to him.  They came in free verse, packed with a dense, visceral sorrow.  She had only finished the edits on it yesterday and typed it this afternoon while he was out at the art store.

He took a deep breath of relief, “I thought you felt that way now, I should have realized.  Are you going to publish this?”  He desperately hoped not.  Having one of the most difficult things they ever had to deal with out in public was not what he wanted.  Teddy now acknowledged the fact that their position in society changed the way they needed to behave as artists.  Emily had already dealt with it when she used her married name on her editorial and political articles, but he had now faced the fact that people might pretend to like his art only because of who he was.  He was also desperately sorry for what he had done to make her feel this.

“No,” she said slowly.  “It’s just ours, like this is.”  She touched the painting again and then turned to him.  “Teddy, I want to work with you again.  I have an idea.”  She held her breath and waited for a response from him.  Emily had known, ever since they reconciled, that they needed to cement this experience with something tangible, something that would connect them even further.  If they both had their art back, they needed to use it to bond them together.

He blinked at her in astonishment.  He had been thinking about that since the first sketch he tried to make.  He had not thought she would want it; the connection they shared after the war had been so deep and demanding of both of them.  He could not have asked her for something so integral, she would have to give it freely.  And here it was.

“I want to do something about our parents,” she looked up at him evenly.

“Our parents?” Teddy’s forehead creased in confusion.  “Why would you say that?”  Had she known that he wanted to draw his mother?  He hadn’t told her.

Emily shrugged, “They are a part of us.  They are a part of us that we barely even know, let alone understand.  My mother and your father are just specters for us, really.  We didn’t ever know them.  I think we need to.”

 

 


	8. "Old Friends"

_“Can you imagine us years from today? Sharing a park bench quietly How terribly strange to be seventy_

_Old friends, memory brushes the same years Silently sharing the same fears_

_Time it was and what a time it was, it was_

_A time of innocence, a time of confidences_

_Long ago, it must be, I have a photograph_

_Preserve your memories, they're all that's left you.”_

_\- Paul Simon – “Old Friends”_

 

                Emily took a deep breath and raised her hand to knock on the door.  Teddy stepped up onto the porch behind her and waited.  This was not going to be the easiest meeting ever.

                The door opened and she blinked, “Emily?  Teddy?”  Ilse Burnley-Miller was never at a loss for words, and now was no exception.  She flew out the door like a comet of silk and purls and enveloped the woman who had once been her best friend in the whole world in a massive and crushing bear hug.  She called her all of the names she could think of and then kissed her soundly on both cheeks.  “You are a brat, Emily Starr!  You don’t even call and tell me you’re coming!”  She hugged her again and held on longer this time.  There was more than a friendship she needed to rekindle here.

                Emily smiled and hugged her friend back the second time.  Where once there had been skin and bones and hanks of golden hair there was a solid, strong woman with the latest marcelled curls.  Ilse had always embraced fashion and fads to the fullest and now was certainly no exception.  Her dress was a violent peacock blue-green with pink hibiscus flowers all over it, belted at her waist and paired with bright yellow high-heeled shoes with pink buckles on them.  Emily never managed to discover exactly where Ilse bought her shoes.  It would be an interesting place to visit, definitely.

                Ilse pulled back from Emily and shook her head, “What on earth are you doing here?  First this one calls,” she indicated Teddy with her hand in dismissal, “and gets us all in a flap about you being gone, and then you show up on our doorstep six weeks later, fit as a fiddle!  What is going on Madame?”  She squeezed her friend’s slim shoulders and sighed.  Emily never seemed to have any problem maintaining her figure.  Four children had not changed her shape at all, whereas Ilse knew she was as big as a house!  Some people had all the luck!

                “We’re in town doing some research and we knew you would never forgive us if we didn’t stop in,” Emily pursed her lips slightly.  This hadn’t been as bad as she thought it would be.

                Over the past ten years, things had changed between the Millers and the Kents.  Although Teddy had been consistently supportive of all of Perry’s ambitions, and Ilse had lived with them for years while she was working in New York, there was a distance between them now that would be difficult to bridge.  Perry and Ilse had never said anything outright, but both Emily and Teddy knew they were far less than happy about Robin’s marriage to and subsequent divorce from Ben.  Even though he was more than happily married to someone else now and the separation had been completely mutual, there was a great deal of bad blood there.

Perry had served two terms as Premier of Prince Edward Island and then returned to his law practice so that Ilse could fulfill her dream of rejuvenating her career on the stage.  She had been moderately successful in Canadian amateur theater, but Teddy’s assessment of the geographical limitations of their homeland had not been far off the mark.  She finally decided to try her luck on Broadway.  They had just finished building Willomere and moving there themselves, so having yet another tie to the Island was fine with them.  She was not an overnight success, but after several smaller parts, Ilse finally earned herself the title role in _The Head of the Family_ , a drama about a middle-aged woman who took over running her family business when her husband became ill.  It was a story of independence and hard work that resonated with Ilse as a woman and an actress.  She was well-reviewed and her future on the stage was assured.  Perry moved to join her in America with the youngest three of their children.  Beatrice had married Paul Murray, Andrew’s eldest boy, and the two were happily setting up housekeeping in Charlottetown.  Rose, Iris, and LauraBeth were a handful, but all three were beautiful girls and the fact that they lived at Willomere did not hurt their chances of finding husbands.  All three had done so and were married and living in Boston, Chicago, and upstate within only a few years of arriving in America.  Perry too, found his own modicum of success in the Big Apple, joining one of the law firms where Teddy did the majority of his business.  The fact that he was also their family attorney did not hurt either.

                Everything was wonderful for a few years, but grew less and less so as time went on.  Ever independent and proud of his own ability and achievements, Perry was uncomfortable with the fact that so much of their family’s good fortune depended solely on the goodwill of their friends.  He didn’t like charity, and he didn’t appreciate benevolence.  Although he had long-since repaid the loan Emily made to Ilse, some of what she said still stuck with him.  When he was offered a position at Osgoode Hall in Toronto, he decided to take it.  Ilse didn’t really want to leave, but she knew that her husband would go without her and this was not what she wanted.  There were opportunities in Toronto too, and she had played all of the roles for women over forty.  It was just time to go.  All of this happened at about the same time as Frank was killed and Robin and Ben announced their separation.  It just hadn’t set well with the Millers, and the Kents were too busy with their own grief to even notice.

                Perry was appointed to the Supreme Court of Canada in 1948 and the couple moved to Ottawa.  Grandparents to more than a dozen, they spent all of their holidays visiting their children and had not visited their friends in New York more than once or twice.  To have both Emily and Teddy show up unannounced was a complete surprise to Ilse.

                Ilse pulled Emily in the door and into the parlor with an arm around her shoulders.  She ignored Teddy completely.  “Perry’s out for a bit – golf with somebody or other – but he’ll be back shortly.  I can make tea or not.  Would you like to sit outside?”  Ilse wasn’t exactly sure what she was saying.  The silence was ominous, really.  She had never felt uncomfortable around Emily before, ever, and didn’t like it.  Teddy didn’t really make her nervous any more, but it would have been easier if he had not been there.  Then she would have just hugged Emily some more and they would have argued their way back to normal.  You couldn’t do that with Teddy around.  He avoided confrontation at all costs and would mediate them into oblivion.  He was very good at changing the subject.  He also did not like it when people challenged Emily; she was completely capable of dealing with it herself, but he always managed to defend her from the foes he perceived as such.

                Although almost every part of her thought that her childhood friends were perfect for one another, there was always this odd sense of unease that Ilse had when she was around them when they were together as a couple.  She supposed it was the fact the she knew Emily shared everything with her husband, and that had once been her right and place as Emily’s best friend.  She and Perry were happy and content in their relationship, but they never seemed to have the same kind of marriage that their friends did.  They never seemed to have the same depth of understanding and connectedness.  She wasn’t jealous, exactly, but she did feel like an outsider when she was the third with the Kents.  Fortunately, both of them seemed to want to make this as easy as possible.

                Emily sat down and pulled her friend with her, “Honey, sit and stop moving.  How are you?”  She squeezed Ilse’s hand and smiled at her congenially.

                “Forget about me!  Where were you?  I was hoping you would just show up out of thin air and decide to be a Canadian again!”  She chuckled at Emily’s murderous glance and squeezed her hand affectionately, “Had to check and see if it was really you!  But, I mean it, what was going on?  Why did you leave home?”  She looked over at Teddy, who had taken a seat in one of the wing chairs slightly away from the couch.  His pose was its usual arrogant same!  He leaned back in the chair and surveyed the room with quiet dominance.  He was only slightly taller than Perry, but there was always something about him that commanded more of a presence than her husband could ever manage, even in his full judge’s regalia.  Although he wasn’t dressed in anything expensive, that she could tell, he just looked too well-put-together.  He always had that air about him and it annoyed Ilse.  He didn’t answer, but instead rubbed his chin and looked over at his wife, deferring to her to answer the question.

                Emily took a deep breath, “We had a bit of rough patch there.  I needed to get away to think about things.”  She set her purse down on the floor and looked at Teddy quickly, “I’m sorry to have worried you.  I should have called right after, but things just got busy.”  Emily realized how ridiculous that sounded.  What right had she to trivialize this, especially to Ilse?

                “Well, don’t tell me then, if you don’t want to,” Ilse snapped and then looked over at Teddy in resignation.  “I suppose you are going to be all mum about the affair too, then?”

                Teddy took a deep breath and sat up in his chair, “We’re here to apologize.”  There.  Although he disliked dealing with things in this way, they had avoided it for far too long. 

                Ilse was abruptly taken aback.  Teddy never took the reins in a conversation like this.  Although he was the head of his family, he led with a quiet presence, rather than anything obvious.  “Apologize?”  The word came out with even less courage than she felt.

                Emily cleared her throat and squeezed Ilse’s hand, “We have been so self-absorbed over the last few years that we haven’t been particularly good about staying in touch.  It is completely our fault.  All that business with Robin and Ben was really beyond our control, I hope you know that we didn’t like it any more than you did.”  Emily took a guess that was where the bulk of their resentment was coming from.

                Ilse let go of Emily’s hand and stood up.  For once, she took a moment to think before she spoke.  Emily was correct, in essence – that had been the straw that broke the camel’s back, really.  Perry had been on the fence about Osgoode before that, but when their son wrote to him about helping him dissolve his marriage to Robin, he was absolutely determined to get out from under the oppressive generosity their friends seemed to have become so accustomed to.  “Ben is happy with Lorraine,” she said quietly.  “It really was a blessing in disguise, I guess.”  She turned to her friends and shook her head, “Perry would have my head for saying this, but you know me…”  She took a deep breath and continued, “Do you realize how you look to other people?  Do you realize what it’s like to have to always be second best?”

                Emily looked at her husband and saw him shake his head slightly.  She bit back the words she was about to say and waited for their friend to continue.

                “Perry and I tried to just ignore it, but it was impossible.  You may not understand how you seem to others.  We are just as successful and capable, but we cannot compare to who you are.  Perry and I needed to get out from under that and just be ourselves, for once.”  She stopped and cleared her throat, nervously.  She had never thought that there would be the opportunity to clear this up with her friends.  She had never thought of exactly the right words for this.  She was used to reading words, putting feeling into what was already on the page.  Emily was the one who usually wrote them.

                Emily wasn’t quite sure how to respond to what she had just heard.  Hadn’t they done everything in their power to help the other couple and their family?  Hadn’t they supported every aspect of both of their friends’ careers?  “I am not sure I understand what you are saying?”  She looked over at Teddy, but his expression was closed, his eyes darker than normal.  That meant he was on the verge of saying something that might not be as congenial as they might like.

                Ilse’s right eye twitched, “Of course you don’t!”  She could not keep the annoyance out of her voice.  “You sit there in your marble palace and bestow the grace and glory of your presence on us poor peons.  You don’t have any idea what it feels like to be the ones who always owe you for something!”

                “Owe us?  Ilse you don’t owe us anything and you know it!”  Emily sat up straighter and glanced at Teddy.  Fortunately, he seemed to have regained control of whatever emotion had briefly overwhelmed him.  Although it wasn’t always healthy, he internalized so many of his feelings.  As a result he was more of a peacemaker than an adversary.  In this case, that was far more useful.  She and Ilse could hash this out on their own and definitely did not need any help.

                Perry had heard his wife’s last remark and Emily’s response when he walked in the door.  He saw the car out front and took a wild guess that it might be their friends visiting.  Teddy had left a message at his office a few days prior that he interpreted to mean that a visit might be in the offing.  Although he might have some issues with their personal relationship, Perry had never shirked in his responsibility as the Kents’ private attorney.  He had worked on the business side of Teddy’s enterprises for a number of years, but the sheer amount of work was too much for one person.  It was also the type of law that he liked least; he wasn’t a contract writer.  Long before leaving New York he had extricated himself from that side of the Kents’ life.  He did continue to serve as their personal attorney, handling most of Emily’s legal and contractual needs and all of their various private real estate and legal matters.  He did respect the fact that his friends had continued to trust him with their most privileged information.  Although he didn’t like the way they lived in New York, he knew that there was no way they would ever allow an outsider into that side of their life.

                He stepped up behind his wife before she could say something particularly caustic and laid a hand on her ample shoulder, gently.  “Ilse, calm down.”

                She spun on him and said something very uncomplimentary and then turned back to Emily, “You know exactly what I mean!  We couldn’t live under your thumb any longer.  It was too bloody perfect!”

                The little slice of temper that Emily had inherited from her father took over.  “Perfect?  What is so perfect about losing both of your sons?  What is so perfect about watching your daughter tear herself apart with grief?  If you think that’s perfect, you…”

                Teddy stood up and came to sit behind his wife.  He stayed her words with his hand on hers.  “This is not why we came here.”  He felt Emily’s temper cool and felt a surge of relief.  He knew she had been on the verge of saying something they might not be able to take back.  He nodded at Perry in thanks, “Whatever it is that we did or didn’t do in the past,” he shook his head and continued, “we want to apologize and try to rebuild the friendship we had once.”

                Perry urged Ilse to sit down and then perched on the arm of the chair beside her, his arm around her shoulders.  He knew that his wife was more than sad about what had happened between her and Emily.  Although she had a lot of acquaintances, she desperately missed the woman who had been her best friend for decades.  “When did you get into town?”

                Teddy sat back on the couch and relaxed a bit, “Just this morning.  We drove up to Montreal and spent a couple of days there, then came over.”

                Emily was still vibrating with anger, even though she was trying not to show it.  She looked over at Ilse and saw that her friend was also frustrated.  They needed to deal with this, not sweep it under the rug as if it had never happened.  The two men were talking about weather and golf and she wanted to scream.  She had to get out of here!  She stood abruptly and looked at Ilse, “Let’s make some tea.”  She stepped out into the hallway and waited for her friend to extricate herself from her husband’s arm.  She wasn’t sure which way the kitchen was, but took a guess and headed toward the back of the house.

                Ilse joined her a few seconds later, “Lord!  Pair of ignorant peacemakers, those two!”  She led the way to the kitchen and then turned to Emily, “Look, I didn’t intend to disrespect Jed or Frank back there.  That’s not what I meant.”

                Emily pulled out one of the turquoise vinyl covered chairs and sat down at the chrome table, “I know that.”  Her voice was quiet, but at least now they could talk.  “I hope you know that I don’t like living there any more than you did.  That’s why I left, as a matter of fact, or at least part of it.”  She picked up a salt shaker that was shaped like a pickle, looked at it in confusion and then set it down again.  She looked at her friend, who had joined her at the table, “I’ve been horrid to you these last few years.  I was so wrapped up in what was going on with everything at home that I didn’t even think about you.  I should have.”

                Ilse’s eyebrows arched in question, “And things are still bad at home then?”  She knew some of this.  Although their letters hadn’t been what they once were, she and Emily did still write.  It was obvious that things were not good, only if her friend simply stopped mentioning her husband almost completely.

                Emily shrugged, “They’re better.  Teddy and I sorted a few things out.”  She looked around her at the brightly painted room.  Everything about her friend’s home was colorful; from the yellow walls to the turquoise furnishings and appliances, to the black and white tile backsplash.  Even the cuckoo clock on the wall was pink, orange, and green.

                “But?” Ilse prodded.  She knew there was more to it than that.  She also knew that Emily was dancing around something she wasn’t sure that she should share.

                “But it is still hard.  I haven’t been back to the house in almost two months and I just don’t want to go.”  She looked up at Ilse, “I don’t know if we will be able to manage when all of that starts up again.  And I do know that I couldn’t bear it if things got as bad as they were.  Honey, sometimes I wish I had this,” she waved her hand at their surroundings.  “Things would be so much simpler.”

                Ilse raked her hands through her curls, throwing them into disarray that made her look more attractive than the ordered style ever would, “What’s that saying?  ‘The grass is always greener’?”  She laughed slightly, “It isn’t easy, Emily.  It never has been.”  She reached across the table and grabbed her friend’s hand, “You want to talk about it?”

                Emily squeezed her hand in thanks, “Maybe.  It’s complicated.  I bought a studio in Greenwich – that’s where we’ve been staying for the last while.”  She looked up at Ilse, “I don’t exactly know where to start.”

                Ilse came around the table and pulled her best friend into her arms, “Just tell it as it comes Emily Starr.  You’re the best storyteller I know.”  She hugged her friend more tightly and then pulled back, “You have to tell me what diet you’re on.  What would you like for dinner?”  She saw Emily grin through her tears and knew that it would be alright.

 

 

                Although Teddy had reserved a room for them at the Fairmont, Ilse and Perry would have none of it and they were quickly ensconced in the Miller’s guest room.  Like the rest of the house, this was decorated in a bright art deco style.  Teddy blinked when they entered a bit later to change for dinner.

                “Does that woman have any sense of color at all?”  He shook his head and held a throw cushion up to the curtains to display the contrast in the two shades of orange.

                “Stop it!”  Emily shook her head and then smiled at him.  “Not everyone is a color palette personified.  What do you want to wear to dinner?”  She unzipped her husband’s bag and began to unpack it for him.  She normally let him do it, but they were a bit short on time and he wasn’t always quick about settling in.  She figured that he would want her to wear a dress and had decided on a new black and white cocktail dress that she had picked up at Bonwit’s last week.  Coco had a new collection out and told her which ones to buy off the rack.  His dark grey suit would work well with her dress.  She felt Teddy’s arms slide around her waist and looked up at him, “What?  We don’t have time for that.”  She moved his hand lower and linked her fingers through his.

                “Why not?” he pressed his lips into the spot behind her left ear and then lower on her neck.  “Dinner can wait.”

                Emily turned in his arms, half reluctant, but mostly delightfully resigned to the inevitable, “We shouldn’t be rude.  Perry was so kind to offer to take us out this evening.”  She didn’t bother to stop his hands when they moved to unbutton her shirt.  Instead, she did the same for him.  “But at least we’ll accomplish half of our task of changing for dinner.”  She whispered the last into his ear and heard him laugh gently.  It was important to her that they were together as much as possible.  The fact that they were staying with their friends offered them a bit less privacy in some ways, but much more in others.  She and Ilse had talked a bit more about what was going on before joining the boys in the living room and she knew that it was reparable.  That was an enormous relief to her, larger than even Teddy realized.  Speaking of, it was time she paid attention to what her husband was doing.

 

 

 


	9. "Home"

_“Another summer day_

_Has come and gone away_

_I_ _n Paris and Rome_

_But I wanna go home, mmm…_

_May be surrounded by_

_A million people I_

_Still feel all alone_

_I just wanna go home.”_

_\- Michael Buble – “Home”_

               Ottawa was not a city that Emily was particularly familiar with. Although they had visited when Perry became a member of the Supreme Court, they had never spent much time here at all. Fortunately, Perry’s schedule was reasonably light and Ilse’s was completely open and they were able to show their friends around. Part of the reason for their visit was to go to the National Archives and try to find out more about the family histories of the Kents, Murrays, Starrs, and Gardiners. It was a bit like looking for a needle in a haystack, but their friends were more than eager to help them. Perry’s research skills were definitely an asset as they sorted through rooms of documents from the 1700s and still more from the 1800s, looking for ship manifests, birth and death announcements, and samples of Douglas Starr’s writing.

               In the evenings they made sure to spend time with their friends. It was not easy to rebuild their friendship at first, but once the four of them put their minds to it, things went relatively smoothly. Perry and Ilse argued constantly about mundane and trivial matters, but they all knew it was just an exercise for both of them. As always, they were more focused on who was the winner and how they would make up than the actual argument itself.

               One afternoon, while Perry and Teddy were golfing, Ilse took Emily shopping downtown. Although she knew her friend didn’t need clothes, she hoped that she could offer her some advice. Emily always dressed like a Puritan, at least in Ilse’s eyes. Everything was black, white, or navy, with only splashes of mauve or red thrown in for interest. Color! That was what she needed.

               Emily shuddered when she looked at the dress Ilse held up at the Hudson’s Bay Store that afternoon. It was a green and turquoise floral pattern with a crinoline. Although she knew her husband liked dresses, he would not like this one. “Not really my style, dear,” she placated. She moved, instead to another rack and held up a black sheath dress in her friend’s size. “What about this? This would look lovely on you?”

               “I’m not going to a funeral! We’re going out dancing tonight, you need something festive.” She moved away from her friend to another rack.

               Festive? Oh dear, what on earth would that mean? Emily meandered into the designer section out of habit and picked up two pair of her favorite slacks and a cream silk blouse that she hadn’t bought in New York. Ilse joined her and shook her head, “Black and white again? Emily, really!” She also shuddered to think what the price might be for these three garments, but knew that her friend couldn’t care less. As long as they were Chanel, Emily would wear them. Maybe Chanel was allergic to color too.

               Finally Ilse persuaded Emily to buy a red dress, although she lost out on the red and orange shoes that she thought should complete the ensemble. At least it was Givenchy, and Emily could live with that. She could also live with the shoes she did find. The new heels were slightly precarious, but they did make her ankles look nice. Even if she wasn’t as young as she once had been, ankles always aged gracefully, or so Great Aunt Nancy had told her. Ilse’s ensemble was a dark green silk dress with more under netting than Emily had ever seen before. Around the waist were large crimson poppies. Ilse found identical ones to trim the green shoes she bought. Emily knew that her husband would irreverently quote The Wizard of Oz and then grimace when he saw it, but that was his problem, not hers. He had never particularly approved of Ilse’s wardrobe.

 

               Finding what they were looking for about their families was frustrating. For what seemed like the hundredth time, Emily picked up an issue of the _Gazette_ and turned to her father’s editorial column. This one, like so many of the others, was just a commentary about trivial social issues – new roads and progress, an upcoming election and bad weather. She sighed and set it in the pile with all of the other newspapers, then stood up and stepped out onto Ilse’s well-manicured back lawn. She stretched her arms up above her head and shut her eyes to the sun, letting it warm every part of her that it could touch. It was a warmish August and there was still no hint of fall in the air, let alone any inkling of something colder. Perry and Teddy were golfing again and Ilse was at one of her charity guild fundraising meeting things. Being alone was a relief to Emily. Although she loved her friends, it was nice to breathe in peace and not have to justify her every word and thought with an explanation. Teddy never asked her to explain herself, but here he was more than slightly on edge. They had hoped to find something – anything that would set them on their course. Although they knew what they wanted to do, they didn’t know how yet.

               Emily kicked off her shoes and let her toes sink into the grass. Feeling the earth beneath her feet was always a good thing. Home. It came to her suddenly and irrevocably. She needed to go home. She opened her eyes and looked around her, nodding with certainty. Home.

               Although Teddy might wonder where she was and Ilse and Perry would definitely think it rude, Emily did not think about that. She simply packed her books into her bag, organized her research papers into a carton to be shipped, and walked out the door. As she walked down the street to the train station she felt better than she had in months – years really. She was going home.

              

               Teddy stood in the bedroom and looked around him in confusion. He looked at Ilse and shook his head, “Did she say anything about going out?” When they came home from golfing he wasn’t surprised that Emily was not there. She had been itching to get out into town and walk around on her own for the past few days. It was not a shock that she had taken the opportunity to do so. But where was she until 10:00 at night?

               Ilse pursed her lips together and shook her head in confusion. Emily was not herself. She hadn’t been since they arrived. Although they both tried to pretend that everything was fine between them, Ilse knew that it wasn’t. They might be working on this project, but they were not wholly collaborating. Ilse had seen what that looked like, and it wasn’t this. Had they been, Teddy would not have had to ask where his wife was. Had they really been together, they would have been together.


	10. "Honesty"

_“When I'm deep inside of me_

_Don't be too concerned_

_I won't ask for nothin' while I'm gone_

_But when I want sincerity_

_Tell me where else can I turn_

_Cause you're the one that I depend upon_

_Honesty is such a lonely word.”_

_\- Billy Joel – Honesty_

               Emily struggled to open the window above her kitchen sink. The lock was stiff and difficult to turn. “Ow!” she shook her hand when the lock finally sprang free and bent her thumbnail back painfully. She sucked on it for a few moments and then pushed up the sash as far as it would go. The Wind Woman rushed in and surrounded her with pine and sea. She took a deep breath and smiled. Home.

               The musty and stale air inside the house was replaced with fresh outdoor air and the smells of the Island that brought her home in every way. It had been a long train ride from Ottawa. Although she had dozed off a couple times, she was still tired. But she was home. She stepped out onto the porch and watched the sun rise above the pines. It wasn’t summer weather, really, but there was something about being home that warmed her in a way that was more than weather. She pulled the pins from her hair and let it tumble down her back. She stepped into her garden and bent down to pull out an errant dandelion from amid the hostas. From her vantage point lower to the ground she could see how her many years’ absence had taken their toll on the garden. Although it was still lovely, it was neglected and overrun with weeds. It would take hours to even make a dent in it!

               Tired and dirty, Emily stood at the kitchen sink again and drank a tall glass of water slowly. She stretched her back and looked at her hands critically. There was dark red dirt under every nail and scratches across the back of both. She smiled and wiped her hands off on the dishtowel and then picked up her pen and sat down at the kitchen table.

 

               Teddy slowed down and shifted the car into neutral. Cashlin was around the next corner, but after more than fourteen hours of driving he was afraid of what he would find around the bend. He knew, intuitively or by his sense of her, that Emily was here. At least he thought he knew. But what if he was wrong? What if she wasn’t around the corner? He rose at 4:00 a.m. and departed for the Island. Isle and Perry were worried about both of them, but Teddy knew he had to go. It had been a long drive with some serious soul-searching en route. There were so many things that they still needed to solve. Coming home was the eventuality that they both wanted, but he had been afraid of it. There could be no running away from anything here. Long ago, after they returned from the war in France, this had been their respite from the world. This was the place where they felt the most connected to one another. It could be no different now, even had he wanted it to be. It was nearly nine o’clock and full dark out. He switched on his headlights and put the car into gear. It was now or never.

 

               Emily sank down beneath the water and sighed with delight. She leaned back and shut her eyes in utter contentment. There was something about a hot bath that made everything better, and a hot bath on a day when your muscles were sore from honest work was even better. She took a sip of wine and opened her book to read.

 

               Teddy felt a wash of relief when he rounded the bend in the laneway that led to their home. The front door was open and light spilled out into the garden in warm golden squares from the living room and several rooms upstairs. All of the windows were open as well. He shut off the car, leaving the keys dangling from the ignition. It was the Island. There was no need to worry. He didn’t bother with his bag or the boxes of research papers that he had carefully packed in the car for Emily. He went around to the front of the house and stopped at the gate. The sign that swung on the gate post was old, but it made him smile. _Cashlin – Kent_. An homage to their family and their childhood dreams. He’d have to repaint it and make it new again – that was true for so much of their life. He opened the latch, freshly oiled, and shut it behind him quietly. In the dim light that shone down from the half-moon and the house, he could see that much of the garden had been cleaned up. There were a few sections that were still untended, but he knew they wouldn’t take long to reorder. A wheelbarrow sat on one of the side paths, full of weeds and refuse ready for the compost pile. It had probably taken all day to do it, but it was beginning to look like their home again.

               He stepped up onto the porch and noticed the empty water glass on the table and the fresh flowers in the jug. They were wild roses. He stepped back down and went to the lily bed and picked one. Opening the door was easy now.

               He looked into the living room and kitchen, but she was not there. There were dishes drying in the drying rack on the counter and fresh bread on the shelf above. The hallway to his studio was in darkness, so it was unlikely she would be in there. He took the stairs in the kitchen and peeked into their bedroom. The covers were turned down and the breeze was blowing the curtains slightly. He moved to the next door and took a deep breath. Emily lay back in the bathtub, completely absorbed in a book. Her hair was piled up on top of her head in a mass of disorganized waves and her cheeks were crimson from the warmth of the room. Her hand strayed to the side of the tub and she took a sip of wine, absently, then turned the page and read on.

               Teddy shut his eyes for a second and said a prayer of thanks. He also burned the image on his mind to be drawn later. He pursed his lips and whistled – two higher notes, and one lower. He wasn’t exactly sure if it was right, but it felt like he was making the right sounds.

               Emily started and dropped her book into the water. She looked up over her reading glasses and her eyes widened in disbelief. “Teddy?” her voice broke on the word. She watched as he stepped into the bathroom and then reached down into the water. He retrieved her novel and set it on the side.

               “Happy Anniversary,” he said gently, offering her the lily and his heart, all in one compact motion.

               “I…” Emily took a deep breath. She had thought about this all day long. Once she started to work in the garden, she was able to calm her mind enough to realize what she had done by leaving Ottawa. They had worked some things out in New York and since, but certainly not all. She hadn’t intended to leave him, per se, but if she were honest about it, she knew that this was a test. He had to come here and find her, or there really was no hope. The wellspring of possibility bubbled up inside her. “Thank you,” she said gently. Her fingers brushed his as she took the flower from him and then looked up and met his eyes, “I was hoping you would come.” It hadn’t been mere hope, but that would do for now.

               Teddy sat down on the side of the tub and looked at his wife. There was not a lot left to the imagination in her current position, in spite of all of the Chanel No. 5 scented bubbles. He loved looking at Emily. “Mmm,” he said quietly. “I’m glad to hear you say that.”

               Emily smiled at him, “I’d invite you in, but there isn’t a lot of room here.” Although she might not miss Willomere for many reasons, her bathroom there was a marvel. The tub was more than big enough for two.

               Teddy chuckled and pulled her robe off the hook and held it for her, “I’ll take a rain check.” He let his hands rest on her shoulders and kissed her softly. “It’s good to see you.” Actually the view was incredibly enticing from his vantage point.

               Emily let her head rest on his chest for so many heartbeats that she lost count. She tried to breathe slowly and carefully, but was not able to control it. She shook and the gasp of air she took in was a wrenching sob.

               Teddy held onto her tighter and dropped his lips to brush her hair, gently. “Shh,” he whispered. There was nothing on earth that he could think of to say, except, “I’m here. It’ll be alright now. It has to be.” He cuddled her closer and let her cry it out. As much as he hated her tears, and as much as he knew these particular ones were his fault, he did not try to stop them. He couldn’t. He was crying too, and they needed to draw their strength from one another. He had known it wasn’t perfect, but also recognized that he could not make it so. They would have to do it together if it were going to last.

               There was nothing more she wanted in the world. Teddy’s arms around her and the knowledge that he understood what was going on between them was worth more than anything to her; more even than the overt attempts they had made to fix things while they were in New York. Certainly, those had not hurt, but here they could get to the crux of the matter. She inhaled and let her lungs fill with the sense of her husband. He had been back in her life for a while now, but not like this.

               Although it might have morphed into something physical, neither one of them wanted that just yet. Teddy wrapped the robe around her gently, keeping his arm around her shoulders. He steered her down the stairs and to their living room. There was dry wood, kindling, and all of the makings of a perfect fire at the ready, so he quickly lit one and then went into the kitchen to retrieve the bottle of wine and a second glass. His errands and husbandly duties finished, he sat down on the sofa, close to her, and pulled her into his arms, “There now.” He slid his hand over her hair and kissed it, “Now we’re home, and the world can go hang.”

               She moved closer to him and let her left hand rest on his chest, feeling the warmth of him through his shirt. There were so many things that might be said, and yet even more that did not need to be. She stayed silent and let their embrace solidify.

               “I miss the cats,” he said softly. They had never been home before without one or more of Emily’s kittens. It seemed odd that they would come here without feline companionship.

               Emily nodded, “Bea and Paul said they have a couple they can loan me. I just got too busy today to run down and get them. The garden was a sight!” She shook her head ruefully, “Cousin Jimmy would turn over in his grave if he ever thought I was responsible for a mess like that.” She didn’t have to mention that she had never loved the gardens at Willomere nearly as much as their tiny plot here. He knew that. Willomere was beautiful; she had never said otherwise, but it was not their home. Even the best parts of it: the rose garden and the beds of perennials that she had worked so hard to plan and build, the pond with their rowboat and the ducks and geese that made it their home, and the beautiful view of the sunrise that you could see from their workroom windows, were not what Cashlin was to her. Here, every cup and spoon meant something to them, every picture had a story to it, every plant had a lineage back to New Moon, or Pinecrest, or the Tansy Patch, or somewhere. That was what made it theirs in a way that no other place could be: only they knew the stories and the histories. They were the private and personal moments of their life that would never be willingly shared with others.

               “I’ll help you finish up tomorrow. I’d imagine there’s some lifting and cleaning up to do out back as well.” Teddy took a deep breath and a sip of wine. Domesticity was a lulling and comfortable net of security for him in a world of chaos. There was so much that needed to be said, but he didn’t know how to start.

               They spoke for a while about the things that needed to be repaired, redone, or reimagined in their home. Although summer visits had always been a part of their family schedule, they had never really lived here for any appreciable amount of time since the late twenties. Twenty years was a long time for any house to stand empty and their Cashlin was no exception. There were cracks to be mended, older parts to be replaced with new, and so many things to be cleaned and reorganized. Emily did not want to even entertain the idea that this would be anything except permanent. In the world that had destroyed their life, there was so much change and chaos that she needed to believe that they could come back here and return to something they had both loved so much.

               Emily’s hand on his heart was warm and gentle. He curled his fingers around hers and held on. Firelight was never really silent; so much could be said by the amber glory of the flames. He watched for a few moments and then turned to her, “I thought you were gone again. I was terrified.”

               She shut her eyes and burrowed closer to him under his arm, “I’m just here. I had to come here.”

               “You didn’t wait for me, or tell anyone where you were.” He shook his head and pulled her closer, “Ilse and Perry were worried.” He had already voiced his own fear to her and she had not really reacted to it at all. That bothered him somehow.

               “Ilse and Perry have nothing to do with this,” Emily raised her eyes and looked up at him. “I think you know why we’re here. I think you know why I had to come alone. You’ve been so petrified to come back to the Island. Why can’t you just tell me why?”

               Teddy gulped. Emily was no lightweight in any conversation, and this one was cutting him to the quick. “The Island has a way of drawing us back in time.” He looked at her and smiled slightly, “You said that to me once. You said that when you thought I had reconsidered marrying you because you wouldn’t fit in with my life in Montreal. That never entered my mind. I have never thought of you as anything except mine.” He looked away and tried to muster the courage to go on.

               “I do belong to you,” Emily agreed. “I always have. You’re avoiding something. You opened up to me about Jed and Frank, so why are you building a wall now? What could be more important than our boys?” She hadn’t known it before, but he was the one who still kept the distance between them. They had shared a lot in New York and had even gone to speak with a counsellor about it, much to Emily’s dismay and consternation. She wasn’t sure it had helped, but did admit that it hadn’t hurt. At least the therapist wasn’t a Freudian!

               “I’m getting to it,” he said slowly. “I just have to figure out how to say this.” He thought for a moment about what had happened in Ottawa, “I think I figured that if we were able to find out about our families and I had the chance to work with you again it would all just go away and things would go back to being the way they used to be. I wanted to come here, but I didn’t want to do it before everything was right.”

               Emily watched him and waited. Teddy was never quick with words. At his own admission, he used pictures to say them for him. The pictures that he was trying to make now were awkward and uncomfortable for both of them. She watched him wrestle with something, almost let it out, and then bury it again. One of the most frustrating and frightening legacies that Aileen Kent had left her son was his inability to express his feelings. In the past, they had been able to share them together, but it had been a long time since that happened last. He was never a public person; displays of emotion were a strictly private thing. It gave him the reputation for being somewhat unfeeling, but Emily knew that it was the opposite. He felt things so intensely, but buried them deep within himself.

               He took a deep breath, “I did something that I am not proud of. I did something that could ruin everything we have rebuilt. It was stupid and it was so wrong.” He let go of her hands and stared into the fire.

               Emily sat up and stared at him, her body vibrating with fear. “What did you do?” He voice cracked on the words and she tried to stop shaking, but couldn’t.

               Teddy stood up and stepped around the coffee table to stare at the photographs that sat on the mantelpiece. There were some older ones and some relatively new: an old one of Emily and her aunts and Cousin Jimmy on their wedding day, one of Robin at the piano in this room, a baby photograph of Jed – one of the few that they had, a sketch of the house here that he had drawn before they left to move to New York, a larger picture of himself, Emily, Robin, Frank and Laura as a baby, and one of the two of them right before the war. He stared at the last one for a long time. They didn’t typically have their picture taken, but Frank had snapped this with his Brownie one summer afternoon without them knowing it. They were standing in the Old Orchard – he remembered exactly what they had been talking about. They were laughing over whether or not they thought Winston Churchill wore his hat to bed with his wife. In the photograph they were facing each other and his hand had just brushed a lock of dark hair back into place. She was holding it to her heart and smiling at him. He would give everything in the world to have that back.

               Teddy stood up straight and decided to face it head on, he didn’t look at her as he said the words, “Before…when things were really bad, I thought… Well, I thought that maybe I should be with someone else for a bit. Maybe I needed something different.” He felt her eyes boring into his back and turned around to look at her. The look on her face stopped his heart. He had seen what she looked like when she was angry, upset, and sad; he had seen the Murray Look. What he saw now was more than that. He watched his wife crumble before his eyes. He saw her belief in him leave and all of the years they had been together flutter away like dry leaves on the pavement in the fall. She seemed to curl up from the inside; her normally straight and proud shoulders hunched and her head dropped to her chest. She drew her knees up and curled her arms around them.

               “Emily…”

               The tears wouldn’t come, and neither would the air into her lungs; it was all just searing pain. She rocked forward and back again, trying to take in oxygen, but her body wouldn’t do it for her. She heard him say something more, but couldn’t understand the words. Finally she gasped in a breath and let it out. The sound was ragged and scorching against her throat.

               “Emily! Oh God…” Teddy pulled her into his arms and held on tightly.

               At first she sat, unmoving in his embrace. Maybe she would wake up and the nightmare would be over. It wasn’t. He kept saying that he was sorry, over and over. Something in Emily helped her to move past the pain. Something deep within her gave her the courage to come back to the horrible reality of what he had told her. She moved slightly and pushed his arms away, extricating herself from the circle of his arms deliberately and precisely. “Don’t touch me,” she said softly. She stood up and moved away, taking his spot at the mantle, in front of their fire. It was her turn to look at the photographs. When she came to the one of their family, she picked it up and turned it to face him. “You wanted something more than this?” She took a deep breath and shook her head in confusion, “What could be more important than this?”

               “Emily it isn’t what you think it is,” he stood up and went to her, holding the other end of the picture frame.

               “Is?” she shuddered.

               “No! Was. Or wasn’t…” he took a deep breath. There was no easy way to explain what had happened or what hadn’t. There wasn’t a lot to say, but it had been nagging at him for weeks now. At first when he and Emily were trying to repair the rent in their marriage, he hadn’t even thought about it. Even when they had arrived back in Canada, it didn’t really register. Then one day when they were out golfing, Perry had asked him what was really going on between he and Emily, and Teddy realized that nothing would ever really be right unless he was completely honest.

               Emily frowned in confusion, “What?” Teddy sometimes stumbled over his words and if he was upset it was difficult to make sense of what he was saying. She shook her head, “You either did it or you didn’t.”

               “I did, but…” he stopped when Emily turned away. She let go of the picture and he wasn’t expecting it. The frame cracked and the glass shattered when it hit the hardwood.

               “Go,” she whispered.

               “Pardon?” Teddy moved slightly closer to her. He knew she had said something, but had not been able to hear it.

               Emily turned around and faced him, “Go. I don’t want to see you and I don’t want to talk to you.” She stared down at the ruined picture on the floor, “You’ve destroyed everything.”

               He gulped back the gasp of surprise and stared at her, “Just let me explain! It’s not what you think it is… was, I mean.” He ran his hands through his hair and looked at her desperately, “Em, please?”

               “I don’t want to hear your explanation!” Emily shouted the sentence. There was a sound like the roar of the surf in her ears and she covered them in protest. “Go! Leave me alone! How dare you bring that here!” She shook her head and glared at him, “You’ve destroyed everything!” She stepped over the ruin of glass on the floor and brushed past him. She ran up the stairs and into their room. Something in her could not resist slamming the door behind her.

               Teddy stared after her and shut his eyes in defeat; maybe it really was over now.

 

 


	11. "Together Alone"

_“Together alone_

_above and beneath_

_we were as close_

_as anyone can be_

_now you are gone_

_far away from me_

_as is once_

_will always be_

_together alone.”_

_\- Crowded House – “Together Alone”_

               Having no desire to see anyone (other than Emily of course), and nowhere to go at nearly 11:00 at night other than to his Aunt Katie, who would certainly have a million and one things to say about this, Teddy fled to his studio. It was the only logical place he could go. He turned on the small table lamp in the corner and sat down to try and regroup and put the pieces back together. He knew he had done the right thing by telling Emily about what had happened, but it certainly didn’t feel like it was right. Had he kept his mouth shut, he would be upstairs right now holding his wife in his arms, likely asleep after holding her even closer. But, here he was, sitting alone and freezing cold when she had asked him to leave the only home they had ever known together. There was very little right in that.

               He stood up and went to the tiny stove in the corner and opened the flue, found kindling and tinder, and lit a small fire to warm the room. August was like that, brilliantly warm in the daytime and chilly after dark. As he watched his tiny fire catch, he thought about Augusts past. The Augusts of their childhood had been full of madcap mayhem as they fought valiantly to keep the September routine from returning. There had been games and plays, forts built, imaginary castles stormed, and dreams woven on the warp and weft of sun-dappled days and brilliant starlit nights. The Augusts of their teenage years had included walks and talks, plans for the future far and near, and the stolen glances and moments alone with Emily that he waited for – even when he didn’t realize why. The Augusts of their time apart had been busy, sometimes with visits here, but mostly spent abroad so that he could practice and hone his craft. But in all of the sketches and all of the repetition of line and shape, there had been one constant. The most wonderful August was, of course, the August of their year of bliss. The day she had looked up at him, her grey eyes shining starlight at him, and became his. Thirty-eight Augusts had not changed the way he felt about the woman who had become his whole world. It had not changed on the battlefield in France, or on the home front when they returned and put their life back together. It had not changed when their sons arrived, and later the surprise of their fourth child. It had never changed for him. Through years of change and turmoil in the world as a whole, Emily had been his rock and his comfort, just as she had promised to be. She had stood by his side when their boys left them, and tried to bring him back from the abyss of grief. That was the only place he had ever really gone without her, and now it was killing everything they built. August was chill and cold without the warmth of her beside him.

               He watched the fire and let his mind scroll through the gallery of August Emilys that he had painted and sketched, loved and lived with. He didn’t bother to stop the tears when they came. September would come, but it would never replace the love of all of his summers.

 

               Emily did not sleep, neither did she write. She sat at her desk and stared into the space of the night outside their bedroom window. Although it was old-fashioned, and likely not efficient, they still had the ancient crank-handle casement windows with diamond leaded panes in them. Part of why they had never changed them was that they both loved the way light seemed to beam through them at odd angles, rather than in uncompromising brilliance. The other was that they had always been loath to change what they loved best about the house; all of the quirky and queer corners and idiosyncrasies were why they had made it their home. Every corner bore the stamp of their life here.   Although the night was chill, the room was warm from the heat of the day, and from the chimney and stove-pipe that ran beside and through it. She lifted her hand to the pipe and felt the heat radiate from it. Teddy must be in his studio. Somehow, although she didn’t want to see him, there was a strange comfort in knowing that he had not left the house. She picked up her pen and looked at the empty page in front of her.

 

               When she woke it was after dawn. She had not bothered to shut the window last night, she couldn’t even remember falling asleep, but that had happened so many times that she didn’t bother to think about that. She stretched her neck and winced at the kink in it, then pulled her shawl around her shoulders and stood up. She hadn’t bothered to do anything with her hair last night and now it fell unbound down her back. The need for a hot drink superseded everything right now and she took the back stairs down to the kitchen. When she entered, she blinked twice. Teddy, well half of Teddy, was laying across the kitchen floor. The other half was under the kitchen sink.

               “Damn!” he grunted the expletive when another clot of water and who knew what else spat itself out at him. He reached for the pipe wrench and couldn’t find it, so he pulled himself out partially to retrieve the tool. When he looked up he saw Emily standing in the middle of the kitchen with a look of disbelief on her face. He stopped and swallowed hard.

               “What are you doing?” she said incredulously. It was more than obvious what he was doing, but the why of it was really what she wanted to know.

               Okay, at least she was talking to him. He cleared his throat, “I turned on the tap to make coffee and water started to leak out of the cabinet. Turns out the trap it totally rusted. I don’t know if I can fix it right now, but I’m trying to at least clear out the clog first. I’ll need to head down to the store and pick up a couple of things to really fix it.” He took a deep breath and looked at her in question.

               Emily pursed her lips and then knelt down to look at the plumbing in question, “Mmm.” It had dawned on her when she had to clean a significant amount of mouse droppings out of one of the other cabinets that they had not lived here in a very long time. Too long. They.

               “If you would rather I didn’t, I can always call someone to come and fix it for you. I didn’t want to disturb Aunt Katie last night, but I could…” he looked up at Emily in question.

               She took a deep breath and then stood up, gathering both her robe and shawl around her protectively, against the chill of the morning and against the fear she felt about what might happen. “If you can fix it, that’s fine.” She turned to leave the room before she said any more than that.

               “Emily? Emily please?” he said softly.

               She didn’t turn around, “I don’t want to talk about it.” She stared at an old photograph of Teddy in uniform that hung on the wall in the hallway. Having him leave was definitely not what she wanted, though. “Stay here if you like.” She could not trust herself to say any more than that. Although she didn’t like to admit it, being alone was not something that she really enjoyed. It was a great way to get a lot of work done, but it was not how she preferred to live. She ascended the stairs and shut their bedroom door softly.

 

               So, there was a reluctant truce, or at least they were not yelling at one another. That should not have seemed odd to Teddy; they had never yelled.

Teddy moved his things from the car into the girls’ room. The spare room was right next to theirs and he wanted to give Emily some space. There were also all of the vestiges of Frank’s childhood in there and he wasn’t sure he could handle that just yet. Robin and Laura’s room was the tiniest of the three bedrooms with sharply slanted ceilings under the eaves. The girls had been offered the larger room, but declined. Their two twin beds were only a nightstand apart and made in gingham and white muslin. He knew they would also be about six inches too short, but he wasn’t about to complain. At least they were still in the same house. He cleaned up and descended the stairs to go into town to the hardware store. As he left the house he saw Emily aggressively pulling creeping Jenny from one of the beds near the house. He stepped down the path toward her and took a deep breath, “I’m headed down to town. Do you need me to pick up anything?”

Emily wiped the strands of hair that had escaped their knot away from her face and looked up at him, sitting back on her heels, “Milk is all I can think of. I didn’t pick any up yesterday. Thank you.” She turned back to her work and dug the trowel in to get a stubborn root.

Teddy sighed, “You’re welcome.” He turned and went down the hill. There was no need to take the car. Unlike New York, it was faster to get places on foot here. Actually, come to think of it, cars were not that fast in New York anymore. That ironic similarity made him snort briefly.

His trip to the hardware store was uneventful. He found what he needed without assistance and paid for his purchase at a counter staffed by a young boy who was more interested in the comic book in front of him than a customer. The general store was now called “Stewart’s Grocery Market”. In spite of himself, he shivered at the thought of dealing with Rhoda or her mother today. He headed back to the coolers quickly and took two quart-sized bottles of milk. He noticed some fresh cheese curds and added those to the basket as well, Emily loved those.

When he arrived at the counter, the cashier was not Rhoda, but was definitely a relative of some sort. Luckily, she had no idea who he was and he escaped unscathed. He left town quickly via the road that would take him past the Tansy Patch. Even if it might be uncomfortable, he knew he needed to let Aunt Katie know that they were here. Unlike the omission he had made when he forgot to let Perry and Ilse know that Emily was alright, he had called both of his aunts. Katie had known that there was something wrong, but had not pressed him for details. A face-to-face meeting might be a different story.

When he arrived at the home that had once been his, he found his elderly aunt out in her yard gathering tansy leaves. She was wearing a longer dress that was obviously from her working wardrobe, having been mended several times with a variety of different fabrics. On her head was her favorite bonnet, leftover from her time at Pinecrest as “Crazy Auntie Kate”. It was an enormous black serge affair that did not flatter her at all. She had worn it for years when she was gardening.

“Making tansy wine again, are you Aunt Katie?” he set his purchases down in a shady spot and leaned on the gate, smiling at her affectionately. The gate was new and freshly painted, likely wholly the result of Katie’s efforts, if he knew her at all. From this angle, she looked the same as she always had; none of her eighty seven odd years.

She stood and turned to look at him. Her first reaction was shock and then she shook her head and smiled back. Their smiles were identical. “Well, it’s high time!” She stepped back onto the path and dropped her basket to the side, wiping her hands on her skirt. “Come on in, lad. Welcome!” She hugged her nephew affectionately and held onto him for a moment to look him over, “That bad, is it?”

Teddy shrugged. His Aunt Katie was the closest thing he had to a parent and she could read him like a book.

“Don’t try that with me! Pick up your groceries, we’ll put them in the cold room and you can tell me what’s what. Come along now, laddie!” She took his arm, more to urge him forward than to support herself.

Once inside, she removed the bonnet and hung it on a peg inside the kitchen door. She looked up at him, “It’s crazy, but that thing has kept my skin in better shape than all of those Paris creations I see the ladies wearing now!” She took the milk and cheese from her nephew and stowed it neatly in the cold room, inviting him to sit and gathering things as she did. When she sat down across from him, she offered a plate of sugar cookies, two glasses, and a bottle of Scotch. “Enough stalling. Get to the meat of it.” She poured them both a healthy tumbler full and then saluted him, taking a good long sip and savoring it, “Love the Scots! Glad you came in, it’s an excuse to have it before noon and not have tongues wag.” She looked up at him expectantly.

“We’re here for a bit. We have some things to sort out,” he took another sip of Scotch and felt it warm his insides.

“Things. What sort of things?” Katie took a cookie and broke it in half on the small plate in front of her.

“It’s… we’re…” Teddy shook his head in defeat and then buried it in his hands. “I’m such a fool.”

Katie watched him closely, “You might be, and you might not be. Sounds like you’ve at least got it all out in the open now?” She hazarded a question that she hoped wasn’t too intrusive. If she didn’t miss her guess, she knew exactly what this was about.

He looked up, “We do.” He saw that she was apprising him with a look of reproach, “How in God’s name did you know?” This was positively baffling.

Katie shrugged, “You weren’t as circumspect as you thought. Robin called and asked me if she should tell her mother after she saw you with… well, anyway, it’s none of my business or hers. I told her that then. She also told me that she met the young lady afterwards and that it was a ‘non-issue’, as she put it. I take it you finally had the nerve to tell Emily?”

Teddy shook his head in disbelief, “I did. Why wouldn’t Robin just talk to me about it? She never mentioned it at all.”

Katie raised her eyebrows, “After what she went through with Anthony? She was not in your camp at all. Actually, she called to find out whether it was possible to disown your parents, but I think she just wanted a shoulder to cry on.” Katie took another sip of whiskey, “Once she calmed down and found out some actual information, she was willing to continue being your daughter and figured it wasn’t worth worrying you over. I hope to hell you’ve stopped taking lithium!”

Teddy nodded, “Ages ago. It wasn’t doing any good. Aunt Katie, what should I do?”

She shook her head, “I don’t know, Laddie. I think you were a fool to get yourself into this mess, but you’ve likely realized that and have paid for it enough, without me adding to it. What did Emily say?”

Teddy shook his head, “Nothing. She doesn’t want to talk about it at all. I didn’t even tell her the whole thing, she wouldn’t listen to it.” He looked out the window at the sea, glittering far off in the distance. “We sorted out a lot of other things in New York, but we both knew that we had to come back here to really solve it. I told her as soon as I got in last night.”

If Katie was surprised that the two of them had arrived separately, she didn’t comment on it. She had seen lights on up at Cashlin early yesterday morning and knew that someone was home. Bea from New Moon had told her that Aunt Emily was there when she stopped in to pick up the fish Paul had brought her from the harbor. She cleared her throat, “But she didn’t send you away. I would imagine that this is quite a shock for her. You might give her a bit of time to sort it all out in her mind first.”

Teddy shuddered, “That’s just what I’m afraid of. What if she doesn’t let me explain how much of a ‘non-issue’ it really was?” He chose to use his daughter’s words, not fully understanding their meaning. “I can’t live without her, Aunt Katie, I know I can’t!”

Katie took a deep breath, “Then you had better make damned sure that she knows that. You had also better charm the pants off her – figuratively and literally lad!” She saw Teddy’s look of shock at her statement. “I watched your father flirt with an entire year of debutantes in London and make business deals that no one else could; you’ve got his charm. I was also married to your grandfather, not long enough, in my opinion, but there’s nothing for that now.” She pursed her lips and continued, “He was the dearest man in the world, Teddy. I never went to sleep nor woke up not knowing that he cared.   You would do well to make sure that your wife hears that as often as she can, I know she’s missed it for more than a few years of late?”

Teddy nodded in confirmation, “It has been awful between us since Frank was killed.” He stopped for a moment. Although he had marshalled a lot of that in front of Emily, this was the first time he had tried to talk about it to anyone other than her or their therapist. “Anyway, we are working on that, but I knew I needed to be totally honest or it wouldn’t work.”

“I agree with you,” Katie said, “but you can’t just expect her to accept it. She needs to deal with it, and you need to be there.”

He took a deep breath in and let it out.

“Why are you still here?”

 

 


	12. "Renovation"

_“Something keeps you this night_

_Deep within the inside_

_Burning from the first light, you know_

_You won't escape this moment_

_Your renovation's coming_

_Now here the change will happen, you know_

_Come on now_

_This is what you're dreaming of.”_

_\- Future of Forestry – “Renovation”_

 

It wasn’t as though they didn’t talk to one another. Living as they were, it would have been impossible even under the best circumstances, and Emily was beginning to realize that these were not necessarily the ideal conditions. Their Cashlin, although watched over by Bea and Paul, had aged. There were creaks and groans of its increase in years at every turn, necessitating both conversation and collaboration between the two of them.

Emily turned the handle of the closet in the hallway to retrieve her broom and dustpan. The knob shrieked in protest and the door didn’t budge. It had always been a bit tricky, especially in damp weather, and it definitely was that today. Emily eyed the rain that had been falling since she woke and shrugged. She returned her attention to the door and tugged on it again. Nothing. She nudged it with her hip and turned. Nothing. “Oh for Heaven’s sake!” She slammed her fist against it and kicked it sharply; a trick that had brought success in years past.

Teddy, working doggedly on line drawings in his studio, his clean-up project in the drive shed aborted because of the weather, heard her and dropped his pencil. He stepped out into the hallway and saw that she was giving the door a stern lecture.

“It is absolutely unnecessary! Open up, you silly…” she saw Teddy in the hallway and took a deep breath. “Could you please help me with this?” Her tone was filled with frustration, but it was not directed at him. Actually, he had been more than pleasant to her over the past few days. He was courteous and kind, as he always had been, thoughtful and attentive, as she loved him to be. He had tried to bring up THE subject numerous times, but she had shut him down. Finally, yesterday, he had told her that even if she didn’t want to hear it now, he wanted to ask her for the chance to tell her sometime. She had agreed, and then hurried up to their bedroom, locked the door, buried her face in one of his old sweaters and cried herself to sleep. She woke to find that he had unlocked the door, shut the windows in the room so that the rain would not come in, and covered her with a blanket.

Teddy grinned, lopsidedly, “I never could open that one most of the time, but I’ll give it a shot.” He turned the handle and then looked at the doorframe, “It’s binding up here at the top. If we get it open, I can plane it down a bit so it won’t bother you again.”

“But we have to get it open, first.” Emily saw why it wouldn’t open.

“Mmm,” he nodded and pulled on it, hard. Nothing. “Stand back, honey.” He turned the knob and yanked as hard as he could. It moved a fraction of an inch.

Emily nodded, “It moved. I heard it.”

Teddy bent over, resting his hands on his knees, “It moved alright, but what you heard was my back, not the door.” He straightened up and grimaced, “I hate that I’m getting old!” He saw the flash of a smile on Emily’s face and shook his head, “Don’t go lording your extra five months over me now! Is there a flat screwdriver in here?”

Emily raised her eyebrows, “Sure.”

“Do you mind getting it for me?” Teddy looked at her and then shook his head, “Let me guess, you put the toolbox in the closet?”

She nodded, “That’s where we always kept it. But actually, I think there’s another screwdriver in the kitchen, leftover from when you had to fix the window latch yesterday.” She hurried away and came back with the tool, brandished like a sword. “Voila!”

Teddy smiled, “Thanks.” He took off his shoe and hammered out the spikes that held the hinges together. Once they were gone, the door slipped out easily.

Emily slid past him and retrieved her broom and dustpan. She was about to pass him again but then stopped and looked up at him, “What?”

“Nothing, I just…” he reached up and touched her hair gently. “You’re beautiful.” He had been drawing the line of her cheekbones all day and to see them in the flesh was like an affirmation. “This is especially lovely,” he let the back of his fingers graze her left cheek lightly, then stopped. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you,” he saw the stricken look on her face and knew he had caused it.

Emily was, meanwhile, just trying to keep breathing. Unless by accident, or just as a result of them working on something together, he hadn’t touched her since the night he came here. She hadn’t wanted him to at first, but lately was finding it more difficult not to. His hands were undoubtedly her favorite part of her husband’s body, other resulting anatomical interactions notwithstanding. She looked up at him, “It’s… you didn’t. It’s fine. Thank you. I’ll go and make lunch.” She hurried away into the kitchen, her broom forgotten in the hallway. She opened the kitchen door and let the cool air flood in, standing in front of it and inhaling deeply. The house was suddenly too small for the two of them.

 

The rain continued in earnest throughout the evening and all of the next day. There was plenty to do in the house, and Emily busied herself with cleaning the cabinets in the kitchen thoroughly with boiling water and vinegar, washing all of the dishes and cookware that had been stored there, and scrubbing the kitchen floor. She was in the middle of this task when Teddy came to the door of the kitchen. She was humming something from one of Robin’s operas to herself and didn’t hear him at first.

“I can hire someone to do that for you,” he said quietly. “You shouldn’t be crawling about on the floor like that!” He watched her straighten and thrilled at the tiny ripples that her vertebrae made under her shirt; like the unfolding of a flower.

Emily turned to him and shook her head, “No, it’s my house and my floor. I’m not hiring anyone to scrub it for me.” She looked up at him in frustration, “What do you need?”

He took a deep breath, “I didn’t mean anything by it. I just don’t want you to overdo it, that’s all.” He watched her toss the rag back in the bucket and use the kitchen chair as leverage to stand. He hadn’t noticed that she was slower than she usually was before now. “This has been a lot of work for both of us. Maybe we should think about getting someone in here to help us out with things?”

Emily folded her arms across her chest and glared at him, “No one is coming here to clean my house or take care of it for me. I’m done with servants!” She spun on her heel and went out the kitchen door. Although the rain was no longer teeming down with its former ferocity, it was definitely still pouring. She took a deep breath of the cool salt-tinged air and shut her eyes. To tell the truth, she was feeling a bit fractious today. It wasn’t the work that was bothering her, rather the lack of it. Although she had been writing in her journal every night, she hadn’t been able to work on anything else since Teddy arrived. It had happened to her in the past when things were bothering her, but rarely for this long. It always made her irritable when it did, making matters even worse. She thought back to their conversation and realized that this wasn’t Teddy’s fault, even if the reason why she wasn’t writing was. If anything, she knew he meant well and she could easily see why they might indeed need help. She sighed and took another deep breath and then went back into the kitchen.

Teddy looked up at her. He was on his knees trying to finish the job she had started. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that you weren’t able to look after the house.”

Emily shook her head, “I know that. It’s just… this weather is making me cranky.” That wasn’t all of it, but she didn’t want to say more. “Here, let me finish. You shouldn’t have your hands in that.” She took the rag from him. Her fingers brushed over his and she felt the warmth of them. “There’s lye in the water.”

He sat back and let her take the cloth, but noticed that she didn’t continue her chore. Rather, she studied her own hands for a second and then looked up. “It’s hard, Teddy. So hard.” There was nothing more that she could say.

He drew a deep breath and nodded, “Will you let me explain it to you? Please?”

She shook her head, “Not right now. I couldn’t hear it objectively. I owe you that, at least.”

“You don’t owe me anything, Emily. I’ve a debt to you that I’ll never repay.” He looked away from her for a moment, and then spoke quietly, “I was thinking about Frank this morning.”

She watched as he dealt with the memories that were so hard for him and touched his hand, gently, “Remember that time we were in Montreal and you and I had to go to that thing at the bank with Rilla and Ken?”

Teddy looked at her and smiled, “And we told him that he was absolutely not to take the car out?”

Emily nodded and chuckled to herself, “Then we were on our way home and pulled up behind this other car trying to get up the hill and it was Frank, in your brand new car!” She laughed out loud, “I will never forget the look on his face when you went up to the driver’s side and asked him what he was doing.”

Teddy chuckled, “I remember that. He had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, that’s for sure. Oh, I was so mad at him!”

“You didn’t act like it! You were so calm. When he offered to get out of the car, you told him not to, got in beside him, and made him get the car started on that hill.” She tossed down the rag and wiped her eyes on her sleeve, the laughter making her tear up. “Forty-five minutes we sat there!”

“We didn’t sit. You kept having to roll backward so he didn’t hit you! I never heard gears grind like that in my life! It was painful!” Teddy leaned back against the cabinet and shook his head. “I tried to just sit there without trying to tell him what to do, but finally I looked at him and said, ‘For God’s sake man! There’s a gas pedal on this vehicle for a reason! Use it!’ Then he tromped on it and damned near broke my neck!”

Emily smiled and rested her chin on her knees, hugging them close to her chest, “He was so embarrassed when we got home. I think it took him six months to even try to drive again.” She pursed her lips and looked at her husband, “You talked to him about trust that night?”

He nodded and then looked at her, understanding her point with this story.

“It can’t happen overnight, Teddy. It’s going to take time.”

Teddy watched her and saw that she was cautiously trying to let him in, afraid of what he might do or say next. “I’ll wait. I’ll give you whatever time you need. You are more important to me than anyone in the world. You used to know that and I promise, I’ll make you believe it again.” He reached for her hand and squeezed it.

 

There was fog – a dense, dark, yellow-tinged, moldy mist that covered everything. Emily tried to see through it, but couldn’t. Where was Teddy? She wanted to raise the gas mask from her face, but knew she shouldn’t. The metallic ping of rain on her helmet was driving her insane! She wanted to rip it all off and breathe in fresh air again, instead of this dank, evil-tasting odor that permeated everything. She could see Teddy if she could just take this off! “Teddy?” she heard her own voice over the sound of the rain. “Teddy, please?”

 

The words jolted her awake. She wasn’t on the battlefield in France, but rather lying in her own bed. She was drenched with sweat and the sound of rain was still there. It took her a moment to realize that she wasn’t sweating and the rain was not outside. “Ahh!” she vaulted out of bed just in time. The drips had turned into a steady stream of water on her head.

“Emily! What’s wrong?” Teddy stood in the doorway, wearing only his boxer shorts. He had heard her shouting his name and then her squeal of alarm. He reached for the switch to turn on the ceiling light. The light came on, and then there was a sizzle, pop, and a crack as the light bulb exploded and the brilliant flash went out. Teddy grabbed her and pulled her into his arms, shielding her from the glass that shattered. He held onto her for a second, and then realized that there was no more danger. She was shaking in his arms and soaking wet, “What on earth happened?”

Emily’s teeth were chattering, but she moved and grabbed the candlestick that sat on the hall table, a relic of her life at New Moon. She lit it quickly and held it aloft, “Well, I think we need help after all!”

It was ghastly! There was glass and plaster everywhere and their bed was drenched with water and the debris from the ceiling. They both looked up and saw the hole immediately. Rain was running freely through a large gash in the roof and had obviously been pooling above the bed for some time.

“Oh Hell in a hand basket!” Teddy muttered. “What a mess!” He ran his hand through his hair and groaned, “It’s pouring out there. There’s no way I could see anything tonight to try and fix it, even if I could manage to get up there in this wind!” He shook his head in defeat.

“You’re not going up on the roof in the middle of a thunderstorm. That’s ridiculous! Let’s get the big tub from downstairs and deal with it in the morning.” She sighed and hugged her arms around her more tightly. It was freezing in here!

Teddy noticed her plight and shook his head, “I’ll take care of it. Come on and get warm.” He steered her toward the girls’ room and urged her in, turning on the small lamp on the bedside table. “Here, you can put this on,” he handed her the shirt he had worn for dinner and afterwards. It was actually quite strange to see her sleeping in anything other than his clothing. He tried to ignore the outline of her against the wet, white cotton of her nightgown. He grabbed his own jeans and buttoned them on quickly, “Change and get in, it should still be warm. I’ll bring you up a hot drink in a few minutes.” He squeezed her shoulder once, and then headed downstairs.

Emily yanked the nightgown over her head and slid into his shirt quickly. She crawled into the covers he had left only moments before and pulled them around her. The vestiges of the heat from his body warmed her quickly. She slid down in the bed and groaned at the delicious warmth around her chilled feet. She shut her eyes for a second and let it surround her. The feather bed hugged her, as he might have, and the scent of him was there too, whether from the shirt or sheets, or both. “Oh damn…” she murmured to herself in frustration.

She hadn’t actually told him not to sleep in their bed, but the door had never been open. He knew well enough not to cross a line like that. He had retrieved some of his older clothes from the wardrobe and dresser there, but hadn’t done it while she was around. The spare room was filled with all of the boxes of their research materials, so it made sense that he had chosen to sleep in here instead, but it was rather small and cramped. As she snuggled down to bury herself further under the covers, her feet popped out of the blankets and she chuckled softly. There was no way that he would actually fit in these beds. She sat up and pulled the top quilt down to retain the heat.

There was a book on the bedside table and she picked it up, holding it at arm’s length to see what it was without her reading glasses. The red and black cover was unfamiliar to her, but she recognized the title, _The Dream Merchants_. Interesting choice. He didn’t usually like love stories. She set it back down and then looked around her, appraising the state of this room as well. She looked up cautiously, but there were no drips or water stains on the ceiling here, thankfully. There likely wouldn’t be as this part of the roof was quite steep, so much so that you could touch it with your hands as you lay in bed. The two tiny chests of drawers at the end of each bed belonged to the girls. The tops of them displayed their personal effects and the mirrors were decorated with their favorite photographs, pictures, playbills, and the like. They had not spent a lot of time here after the war, and Robin hadn’t really been here in almost twenty years, so nothing was current. The hand braided rug on the floor was from New Moon, one of the last Aunt Elizabeth had ever made. It had been among the numerous items that she gave to Emily upon her marriage to Teddy.

For some reason, marrying Teddy had been acceptable to Elizabeth Murray in a way that a union with Dean Priest never would have been. There had been no spoken acknowledgement that this was the second time they were furnishing the little grey house on the hill, but the fact remained. Juliet Murray’s silver and crystal made the trip once again, this time to stay. The furniture that she hadn’t realized was hers until its first appearance here reappeared. But this time there was more. The aunts themselves helped her move things, organize drawers and cupboards, and fill shelves and cabinets. At Teddy’s insistence, he had furnished their bedroom on his own, but left the rest of the house to Emily. The touch of her aunts’ Victorian taste still remained here in this room, even after changes had been made almost everywhere else.

Teddy opened the door and came in with two mugs of steaming hot liquid. He set them both on the doily on the table between them and then sank down onto the other bed, running his hand through his hair, “It’s a mess! We’ll have a lot of cleaning up to do in the morning, that’s for sure. I rescued a pair of your shoes. They’re in the hallway. Be careful of the glass if you have to get up in the night.” He reached for his mug and took a sip. Hot water with Scotch in it was the best he could do at this hour of the night. “On a positive note, it might have stopped raining, at least for the moment.” He looked at Emily for the first time. Her long braid hung down her back, and she was sitting with her arms wrapped around her knees, watching him. He saw her smile slightly. “What?”

She shrugged, “You. Us.” She pulled the mug toward her, careful not to spill it. Teddy always filled glasses and cups to the very brim. He managed to carry them without disaster, but very few others could, herself included. She took a cautious sip, but it wasn’t as hot as she expected. The peaty, earthy tone of the alcohol hit her nostrils and warmed the back of her throat instantly. “You used the good stuff,” she said softly.

“We need it,” he replied, smiling at her in response.

She didn’t disagree and took another sip. They sat in a companionable silence as they finished their drinks. Emily watched him out of the corner of her eye as he sat less than two feet away from her. At Willomere he could have simply been on the other side of their bed, but here he seemed closer to her, somehow.

He set his mug down and then stood up to take his jeans off. He turned to face the wall and took a deep breath as he did so. The urge to crawl under the covers and pull his wife into his arms was almost irresistible, but he suppressed it and got into the other bed instead. This one was Laura’s, even though it was identical to the other one on the left side that was Robin’s. He slid down and his feet untucked the sheet and stuck out the end. He muttered something and pulled them back toward him.

Emily cleared her throat nervously and took the final sip from her mug. She watched him struggle with the blankets for a second, and then got out of bed. In the small trunk at the foot there were extra quilts, but he wouldn’t necessarily have known that. She took one out and draped it over the bottom half of his bed, then folded another and set it on top of the trunk, extending the length enough for him to stretch out. “There, that will feel better. You can’t sleep all crunched up like that.” She scooted back under her own blankets and lay down.

“Thanks,” he said quietly. He was propped up on his elbow, watching her. If he lay down, he would be on his good ear, and he didn’t want to miss anything she might say or turn his back to her. He reached over across the space between them and took her hand. “I’m glad you’re here.”

She felt his wedding ring press into fingers and she shut her eyes for a second, “I’m glad we both are, still.” She opened her eyes and looked at him, carefully, “Can you please tell me?”

He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, then sat up again, squeezing her hand before letting it go.

 

The party was incredibly boring, and the room was stifling. Wearing a tuxedo in July while having to listen to boring after dinner speeches was not any way to spend an evening. Teddy grabbed a drink from a passing waiter and left the dining room of his friends’ home to catch a breath of fresh air on the porch. He took in a deep breath of the fresh salt air and sighed in relief. Although he liked Joe and Rose Kennedy, of late their parties had become a bit too focused on politics.

Emily was not here tonight. They had brought the grandchildren to the cottage on Martha’s Vineyard two days ago and she had absolutely refused to leave them alone to come to this dinner party. He supposed that he didn’t blame her, even though Morgan and Jon were more than old enough to take care of their brothers. It was likely more that Emily didn’t want to socialize with anyone while they were on holiday.

He took a sip of his drink and stared at the water, trying to decide whether he should take the last ferry back or stay the night here.

“It’s nice to be outside for a moment, isn’t it?”

The voice interrupted his reverie and he turned to see who had spoken. One of the rocking chairs that faced the water was occupied by a young woman. He tried to remember if Joe had introduced her to him or not. It didn’t really matter. He nodded in agreement and motioned to the chair beside hers, “Is this seat taken, or am I interrupting something?”

She shrugged, “Only if you chatter louder than the birds about the communists. Have a seat.”

He sat, cradling his drink in his hands and watching the ocean for a long moment, then he cleared his throat, “I’m Frederick Kent. I’m not sure we were introduced?” He looked at the woman more carefully. The light from inside the house played on her reddish-brown hair and set her face into profile.

She turned to look at him, “I know who you are. Everyone knows who you are. Katherine Rathburn. Call me Kate.” She offered her hand to one of the icons of the century and couldn’t believe that it didn’t shake. She had seen him come in, watched him talk to Joe Kennedy and her uncle Fred Wilton. She had sat three people down from him at dinner and seen the abject boredom in his eyes once the post-meal conversation began.

“Kate,” he nodded and shook her hand. “You’re missing quite the party in there.”

She laughed, “So are you.” Frederick Kent wasn’t usually at parties alone. She had been at several where he was in attendance, even been to his house once with Uncle Fred and Aunt Nan, and his wife was always at his side. They were a striking couple and by far the most illusive, politically. They didn’t usually involve themselves in anything overtly to do with government, but must support something in private, everyone did.

“Thankfully, yes. The same old, same old.” He shrugged his shoulders and loosened his tie. Alright, he’d stay here tonight. He didn’t really feel like racing to the ferry, or like arriving home in the wee sma’s.

She nodded in agreement, but didn’t say anything else.

 

They had spent the rest of the evening on the porch, not really talking about anything in particular, but avoiding the heated diatribes that were going on inside. She had left with her relatives quite late that evening. Before he headed to bed in one of the Kennedy’s spare rooms, Joe had clapped him on the shoulder and whispered, “Good choice.”

 

He shouldn’t have spoken to her when he saw her coming out of Tavern on the Green. He knew that, but somehow couldn’t help himself. He shouldn’t have suggested that they meet for dinner either, but that seemed reasonably logical, and it was just dinner, after all. He had to eat, didn’t he?

All the excuses and justifications seemed ridiculous to him as they sat at the tiny table in a quiet corner of a restaurant in the theater district. He hadn’t wanted to go anywhere where he would know anyone, or where anyone would know him. Mission accomplished; he hadn’t even known this place existed. Kate was an interesting young woman. She was young and he acknowledged that first and foremost. Thirty, maybe? Likely not quite that. She still spoke about her career in that glittering, hopeful way that led him to believe twenty-something. She wanted to be an actress and had some small parts in summer theater. She modelled a bit here and there and was taking classes too. He listened to her talk about herself as if he were removed from the conversation altogether. In a way, he was. She talked, and he listened. He refilled her wine glass and ordered dessert for her, and she changed the topic to travel. She loved Europe; Paris was her favorite.

In the car on the way to her apartment, he didn’t want to admit that he knew what would come next. At her doorway he should not have accepted her invitation in, but he did. She did have a rather nice bottle of bourbon at her bar, and he had downed a glass of that like it was water when she excused herself for a moment.

This wasn’t the first time she had done this. Strange – it felt like it was the first time he had, actually it was the first time in almost forty years. He didn’t think about Emily, and he didn’t think about his family. Actually, he found that he wasn’t really thinking about anything at all, just acting on autopilot. Part of it was reassuring: she was young and beautiful she wanted him. The other part of it was like a slap in the face: he couldn’t do anything about it. He told himself that he wanted to, but he knew that was a lie. He told himself that his body should want to, but it didn’t.

He made some excuse about it being too late and left somewhere after two o’clock in the morning. His office was the only place he could go at that time of night. Home was definitely not an option. He woke when the bright light made its way to the sofa and he realized that he had made a desperate mistake.

 

Teddy cleared his throat, nervously, “I sent her flowers and a card telling her it wasn’t going to work. That’s all.” He looked down at his hands and twisted his wedding ring with his thumb, absently.

Emily watched him for a long moment. The tension in his shoulders was obvious, and he was trying to remain calm and not look at her. She waited for him to speak again.

He finally looked up and over at his wife, “So now you know it all.” He wanted her to say something, anything in response to what he had told her, but she didn’t, she just watched him. “Emily, please?” he finally relented and asked for a reaction.

She shook her head, “What do you want me to say?” She frowned and looked away from him for a moment, choosing her words carefully, “Is it supposed to be okay because you didn’t actually sleep with her? Is that what you think?”

“No, I don’t think it’s okay at all. I just…” he shook his head in defeat. “I don’t know what I want you to say.” Actually he did. He wanted her to say or do something to absolve him from the guilt he felt right now.

Emily looked at her left hand for a moment and took off her wedding ring, deliberately. She let it drop onto the bed in front of her and stared at it for a moment. She knew that her husband was watching her but wasn’t sure what she should say or do in response.

“Oh God, Emily please don’t!” he felt like he couldn’t breathe, like someone was sitting on his chest and crushing every ounce of life from him.

She shook her head, mutely, still staring at her ring. It was white on white in the dim light from the window. If you didn’t know it was there, you wouldn’t see it at all. Was that what it was to him? Was it some invisible fetter that he could forget about? “It meant nothing to you?” Her voice was hoarse, holding more tears in check than she thought she had left.

“Nothing at all, Emily. I swear it.” He was careful not to say anymore, waiting for her response.

She turned to him, the Murray look was on her face, “That is unacceptable.” Now that she let herself react, she found herself more angry than sad. “You would throw away our entire life together for something… someone that you didn’t even care about. That makes it worse.” She picked up her ring and set it on the bedside table then turned over to face the wall, her back to the man she thought was her husband.

 

Morning came. It always does, or so Emily supposed as she got up and dressed. She found a pair of Laura’s pants in the dresser and put them on, along with a sweater she found in the closet in the spare room. Somehow wearing Teddy’s clothes was not something she could do today. She descended the stairs and came into the kitchen. She poured herself a cup of coffee and looked out the kitchen window. It was still overcast, but it was not raining, at least. She heard voices near the back step and turned toward them, letting herself out onto the back porch. Teddy stood with Fred Hammond near the steps. They were obviously discussing the roof situation.

“Good morning,” he said, trying to make himself believe that it was. She looked unbelievable this morning. Red was not a color that she wore frequently, but she wore it well, all the same. It was the perfect foil for her hair and skin, actually and threw them into sharp relief against the grey boards of the house behind her.

She didn’t acknowledge his greeting and stepped down to meet the two men, “So what do you think, Fred?” He had gone to school with Robin and had a thriving construction business in the small town, if Aunt Katie’s reports were to be believed.

“Good morning Missus Kent! Looks like you folks need a new roof here!” He gestured to the hole, the tree limb protruding from it, and the state of the house in general. “Might say that the whole place needs a bit of work, actually. New siding here and there, a coat of paint, maybe some windows replaced too. When’s the last time you did any of that?”

Emily ignored Teddy’s attempt to answer and spoke for him, “1904.” That was the year she was supposed to have married Dean. “I guess it is time for a bit of repair then, isn’t it?”

He shook his head affirmatively, “I’ll say! You’re lucky it lasted this long. Must’ve been some good work to start with, though. I’ll try to do my best for you this time as well, if you’re willing?” He looked from Emily to her husband in question. It had been a bit of an odd conversation when he first arrived. Normally men made all of the decisions like this, but Mister Kent had said they had to wait for his wife to tell him he could start.

Emily nodded, “Willing and obviously wanting. How soon can you start?” She stooped down and pulled out an errant pig weed from among the cobblestones in the walkway.

“I’ll be over this afternoon to patch that hole for you, then I can bring a crew in tomorrow, if you like?”

They discussed terms for a few more minutes, and then Fred took his leave. She remained with Teddy outside as they watched him pull out of the driveway and down the hill. Emily took a deep breath in and looked up at her husband, “I’m angry and upset. I’m also tired and hungry. I don’t know which is worse right now.”

Teddy nodded, waiting for her to say more.

She wanted to turn away and not look at him, but knew he couldn’t hear her if she did, “Is there any way that you could not be here for a while?”

“I…” He swallowed hard and made himself agree, “I could go and stay with Aunt Katie for a few days, if you think that’s a better idea?”

Emily dipped her chin once, to nod at him, “I think that is a very good idea.” She took the three steps up to the kitchen door and let herself back inside without saying anymore.

 


	13. "Glitter in the Air"

_“It's only half past the point of oblivion_

_The hourglass on the table, the walk before the run_

_The breath before the kiss, and the fear before the phrase_

_"_ _Have you ever felt this way?"_

_\- Pink – “Glitter in the Air”_

Three days. It had been seventy-two hours since he had seen or spoken to Emily. Teddy stuck his hands in his pockets and rocked back and forth, from the balls of his feet to the heels as he watched the surf in the distance from the vantage point of the Tansy Patch porch. Aunt Katie had not pressed him for details when he arrived, discerning the gist of things from odd comments he made and his general desolation. She let him be, for the most part, but had made him eat breakfast this morning.

“Alright Laddie,” Katie said firmly, touching her nephew’s arm and handing him a large basket, “time to go.” She knew he would react to this, even if he had reacted to little else of late.

“Go? Go where?” he looked at the basket as if it were from another planet and then up at his aunt in confusion.

“I gave you your space. I let you mope about here like a spoiled little child for three days. Now you’re going to help me pick apples and then we’ll make a pie. I’ll spare you from town for a bit longer; no need to get tongues wagging any more than they already are. That Stewart woman is a witch! Anyway, off we go now!” She didn’t give him time to argue with her. Actually, she did need help picking apples. Although she didn’t really care about dying, she thought that falling off a ladder in an apple orchard might be a bit of a messy way to go at her age.

Teddy followed her desultorily. On an impulse, he grabbed his sketchbook from where it rested on the porch railing and threw it into the basket. It was a coolish sort of day, the kind that came after a rain storm. There had certainly been enough of those! The rain on the roof had kept him awake last night worrying about whether Emily was alright or not. Was she safe? Was she warm enough? Had Fred Hamilton really fixed the leak and who was helping her clean up? He didn’t know the answer to any of those questions and was frustrated by it. Actually, his frustration came from a completely different source, but that was the ironic hell of this whole situation.

He had played Emily’s words over and over in his head like one of Robin’s phonographic recordings – although he could hear this one just fine. “You would throw away our whole life together for someone you didn’t even care about.” She was right. He hadn’t thought about his family at all, so focused on his need to escape the pain somehow. And he hadn’t even done that. “Is it supposed to be okay because you didn’t actually sleep with her?” He hadn’t slept with her, but he would have, if he could have. He would have tried anything to avoid the reality that he didn’t want to face. He had faced that now, and he and Emily had started to come to terms with it together. That was a blessing, more so than anything. But one night of stupidity had taken everything they had rebuilt and shattered it. One night that hadn’t even amounted to anything. He had never had that problem with Emily, ever. Not before, and certainly not now. He could barely draw a line without thinking of her and wanting her. He had felt something akin to this before they were married, but it had never been so desperate.

He stopped when his aunt did and took the ladder that she pulled from her shed and put it over his shoulder. He marveled at her sure-footedness as they navigated the twisting path between the Tansy Patch and the orchards of New Moon. He remembered running down this same path as a child to meet Emily, Ilse, and Perry in what had then been the New Orchard. Now it was all just the orchard, but he knew that the sweetest fruit were found in the out-of-the-way sections, where it had been allowed to propagate naturally. Tolman Sweet were his favorite. Emily’s Aunt Laura used to make these candied apples in jars of sugar that would melt in your mouth. He tried to remember if Emily had that recipe or not.

When they finally arrived at the section of the orchard that had been chosen for today, he did as his aunt asked and picked some of the Macs and Spies. It was early in the season, so the pickings were a bit slim. He was up in one of the taller, new trees gathering a couple of beauties when he heard her voice. He stopped cold and grabbed onto a branch for support.

“Hello Aunt Katie! Great minds think alike, I see!” Emily smiled at the other woman and nodded at her nearly-full basket. “You are doing a lot better than I am!” Emily was wearing one of her Aunt Elizabeth’s old Mother Hubbard aprons over her own clothing. Although they were ghastly garments, they had exceedingly deep pockets, perfect for stowing away fruit. One pocket was full of wild blueberries, gathered from the barrens behind Cashlin, the other held two or three small apples that she had managed to find. She had been up since first light this morning; she wasn’t sleeping well in any case, and the workmen always arrived early. She had left her hair down in a braid today, not wanting to catch it on branches as she ducked under trees. She didn’t feel like she was looking her best at all. Thank goodness Aunt Katie was alone! The last thing she needed was for Teddy to see her like this.

Katherine Gardiner grinned at her niece and shook her head, “But you have a quart of wild blueberries on me! How are you, dear?” She saw her nephew’s toe move slightly and tried to keep a straight face. She had known Emily was out and about today; Bea Murray had told her so when she stopped in first thing with eggs. She and Paul were going to be away for a couple of days and asked that Katie keep an eye on both New Moon and Aunt Emily. Bea didn’t exactly know what was going on, but had heard from her mother that there definitely was something wrong between Emily and Teddy. She and Paul had called there this morning and found out from Paul that she had gone berry picking. Katie hoped that they might run into her in the orchard, but this was better than she expected. Emily would be a lot more forthcoming if she didn’t know that her husband was here. Also, the pint-sized Lucifer that sat on Katherine Kent’s shoulder could really see the humor in the whole situation. Let Teddy squirm a bit; it would be good for his infernal Kent-ishness! (Katie felt herself entirely entitled to make that statement, given her own heritage!)

Emily shrugged, “Been better.” She sighed and slumped down on the log beside her aunt. “They’re hammering night and day, it seems. I have a headache that won’t go away unless I leave the house.” She pressed her fingertips to her temples and shut her eyes. That wasn’t the half of it, but she wasn’t sure how much of this Teddy had shared with his aunt. Even if he kept things bottled up inside, she could certainly understand that he would not want to share something so private with everyone.

From his perch in the tree, Teddy dared to move a branch out of the way so that he could at least see her. She was sitting in the sun with her legs stretched out. There were indigo shadows under her eyes and she was rubbing them fiercely. When she looked at his aunt, he saw that she was trying valiantly to smile. He wanted to rush down the ladder and pull her into his arms so that he could kiss the tears away before they even fell. He also imagined that it would be magical to kiss her in the sun-dappled shadows underneath the trees themselves, with the light making those delicate fairy patterns across her skin.

“All the repair work is going well though?” Katie asked congenially, hazarding the quickest of glances up into the tree. She almost laughed aloud when she saw his face poking through the greenery. Some sort of specter from C.S. Lewis was what he looked like – a tree gnome or some other sort of fanciful creature.   She also saw the look of longing in his eyes and knew that he really didn’t want this.

Emily shrugged, “I guess. Every time I turn around it’s: ‘Missus Kent? We need you to have a look at this?’ or ‘Missus Kent? We found something.’ Usually that means they need to fix something else. Apparently there was a leak in the plumbing of the bathtub and the floor joists were almost rotten. Whole thing damned near fell into Teddy’s studio! I spent all of yesterday moving everything out of there and into the dining room so it wouldn’t be ruined. It looks the Louvre is having a jumble sale!” She shook her head in defeat, “We’ve renovated before, but never tried to live in a house while they were doing it. It isn’t fun!”

Katie saw Teddy’s expression soften even more and knew that he wanted to be down here talking to her too, but she wasn’t about to let that happen. “And how are _you_?” she said gently. She watched the emotions cross her niece’s face and saw what she knew Teddy couldn’t. As stoic as she might be, this was hurting.

“It’s hard,” Emily said simply. “It’s harder than I ever thought it would be to be alone. I don’t know how you’ve done it all these years.” She shook her head and pulled an apple from Katie’s basket and shined it on her apron. She took a bite and let the sharp, tangy juice cover her palate. It reminded her of so many autumns when they were children. They would, all four, eat apples until they made themselves ill, not wanting to miss the seasonal delicacy.

Katie raised her eyebrows, “I had to, that’s all. I didn’t choose it.” There was an implication in that statement: Emily could choose something else, if she decided to. “Have you talked to him?” She knew the answer to that, but wanted to see if Emily would open up a little bit more.

Emily swallowed another bite of apple before answering, “No. I think I’d better not, just yet. I’m not sure what I would say?” She looked over at Katie for a suggestion.

“’I love you more than life’ is a good one,” Katie offered. “I know that’s what I’m going to say to Michael when I see him next. Of course when I see him next, life will be sort of irrelevant.” She shrugged and patted Emily’s hand, “Just be honest with him. You two have a lot that’s worth saving, you know?” Although she understood why Emily would be upset with her husband, she also thought that she might be over-reacting just a bit. From her perspective, forgiveness held a lot more value than loneliness.

Emily finished her apple and tossed the core into the scrub beside the fence, “I know we do.” She didn’t want to say any more. Although Katie was as much an aunt to her as to Teddy, blood was thicker. She set her lips in a determined line, “Would you mind if I borrowed your ladder? I think all of the good ones are a bit higher up than I can reach.”

Katie nodded in agreement, “Of course, I’ll help you carry it.” She stood up and pulled the ladder away from the tree and then helped her niece move it to a tree in a completely different section, before returning and looking up through the branches, “You can come down now, you silly man!”

Teddy was crouching on a branch about fifteen feet in the air and looked down at his aunt in frustration, “And how the hell do you suppose I should do that? You took the ladder and I almost landed on your head! You are a sadist, Aunt Katie!”

Katie chuckled at the expression on his face, “I am not! I’m just dying to have you out of my house and back where you belong! Now get down and let’s head back so you can get cleaned up and help me make pie. You two are a pair of stubborn fools…” she continued to mutter to herself and headed up the path without him, leaving Teddy to navigate his way down and to carry the apples.

 

Emily pulled the pan out of the oven and inhaled. Perfect. Blueberry Coffee Cake, browned to the light golden hue that made its sugar coated crust just slightly crunchy. That would be dinner, she determined immediately. It was well past seven now, but she had only returned to the house at six, just as Fred and his crew were leaving. He had shown her all of the work they had accomplished today and she was impressed. The roof was done, as were the repairs to the siding that were most important. He had also pulled everything out of the upstairs bathroom and reinforced the floor. This morning they had decided to make a few changes to the layout upstairs while they were working on it and add a small en suite bathroom to the master bedroom. She and Teddy had talked about it before, but never had cause to do it. The airing closet upstairs was redundant now, so that was where they would put it. There would be room for a sink, toilet, and small shower. The main bathroom would have a tub that was big enough to soak in, all new fixtures, and a larger window. That would take at least another week to complete. Although Fred was very good at what he did, he wasn’t current with design and Emily had to explain things like slate and granite tile to him and give him the contact information for the suppliers she had worked with when she redid the loft space. But, it would be worth it in the end.

She wiped her hands on her apron and contemplated the idea of a bath this evening. It would mean hauling the wash tub out and filling it with hot water, but what other choice did she have? She lifted the braid at her neck and let the cool breeze from the window brush across her nape. She shut her eyes and let her mind drift for a moment. Lying in her bathtub at Willomere, Teddy had done the same thing for her, but it was his breath on her neck and his lips on her…

Her eyes flew open when she heard the knock on the front door. Who on earth? She dropped her hair and hurried out into the hallway. She stopped suddenly and swallowed hard. “Teddy? What on earth are you doing here?” She didn’t mean it as an accusation. It was more that she had been imagining him so vividly that to have him appear was a bit disconcerting. What she had been imagining made her cheeks turn a brilliant shade of rose.

Teddy blinked. Emily had her hair down in a rather disheveled braid and her cheeks were a lovely dusty pink color. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. I just…” He cleared his throat and pulled the small cat out from under his coat, “Bea wanted me to bring you this.” He stroked the soft fur on the tiny animal’s head, gently. He knew she meant to get a cat, and while he was over checking on the animals at New Moon, he had decided that this one belonged to her. While he had the courage, he stole a pie from the Tansy Patch window and came up here. He looked at her, “I have a pie from Aunt Katie too.” He nodded toward the covered glass dish that he had set down when he needed to knock. He had stood there for about ten minutes deciding whether he should knock or not, but seeing as his hands were full, he had decided to. Why was Emily blushing?

“Oh!” Emily rushed to the door and opened the screen quickly, “Come in! Oh, look at you!” She took the grey and white animal into her arms and cuddled it. “You are the sweetest thing!” She scratched it behind the ears and heard a low and powerful rumble of pleasure. “Thank you!” she beamed at him. She had been missing her cats, but had thought Bea forgot.

“No problem,” he said quietly. “Would you like the pie in the kitchen?” He watched as she held the small animal to her chest. He liked cats, but Emily loved them. She treated them like another set of children, a set she spoiled mercilessly. Of course she allowed them their freedom, but there were always felines in their private quarters at Willomere and there had always been a bevy of beasties at her feet when they lived here.

“Hmm?” she looked up at him and smiled. “Oh! Yes, sure, come on in!” Emily set the cat down and left it to explore on his own, knowing that he would follow her. She let Teddy enter the kitchen ahead of her and then took the pie from him, “This looks good. Would you like some? I was just about to sit down to dinner, actually.” As she spoke, she fetched a saucer of milk for her newest charge and watched him lap it up in utter contentment, then hop up onto the spare chair at the table and curl up in a ball.

Teddy, who had been force-fed yet another meal by Katie, was anything but hungry, but nodded. He would do just about anything to stay here with Emily for even a few extra minutes. “I don’t want to interrupt your meal. I didn’t realize it was supper time.”

“It’s not,” Emily said, shortly. “I was out all day and then had to deal with Fred when I go home. It’s too late for a real meal, so I was going to have coffee cake. That and pie sounds even better.” As she spoke she took two plates from the cabinet and put a slice of both the pie and her blueberry cake on each. She pulled out a half-empty bottle of white wine from the refrigerator and filled two glasses for them and then set it all on the table, “It’s not exactly dinner, but it will do.” She sat down across from him, only realizing that she was still wearing the Mother Hubbard when the fabric pooled around her ankles. Although she was used to wearing pants, she hadn’t brought much of her own wardrobe with her, and the clothes that she did have here were older and mostly dresses that she had worn many years ago. They still fit, and seeing as she was usually cleaning or working in the garden, what she wore was not her first priority. Right now though, she was acutely embarrassed by the voluminous apron that she had forgotten to take off. Of all the things for him to see her in! This particular garment was historically her nemesis. She vowed to make sure that she never wore it again, regardless of its usefulness!

Teddy saw a dozen different things cross her eyes, but couldn’t really read them all. There had been a time when he might have, but that was not today. It didn’t matter, though. He was with Emily. She smelled like blueberries and apples, sugar and sea salt, and like every dream he’d had in the last three days. He cleared his throat and looked at his plate, “This looks entirely decadent and delicious.” He looked up and smiled at her, thinking that she rather suited the adjectives too.

Emily forgot what she was wearing altogether. There were very few things in this world that could make her oblivious to everything around her, but Teddy’s smile, the one that he reserved for her alone, was one of those things. “Yes, well…” she watched him take a bite of cake first and lick the tiny granules of sugar from his lips. Given what she had been thinking about before his arrival, it was unusually fascinating to watch him eat.

He took a tiny sip of wine and shut his eyes in sheer bliss, “Sugar and Gewurtstraminer. Damn, but you have good taste, love.” He took another bite of cake and winked at her in appreciation, “You can also make this cake better than anyone I know.” It was a Maritime specialty, and his mother had made it when he was a boy, whenever he managed to bring home enough of the tiny, wild blueberries that made it so delicious. But Emily’s was always sweeter, somehow.

Love. She knew it was off-hand. She knew it was habit, but she didn’t care for the moment. She took a bite of her own cake and let it melt in her mouth. Aunt Nancy had not been a great cook, but this was one thing that she could do.

They ate the rest of their meal in silence, but it was not uncomfortable. Teddy divided the remainder of the wine between them and then used the tip of his finger to pick up the last grains of sugar from his plate. He looked at Emily and shook his head, “Thank you so much.” He was thanking her for the food and the chance to be here with her. They had sat at this table so many times before and he had never realized how wonderful it was to just be with her. He had taken her for granted for far too long.

“You’re welcome,” she said quietly. “It’s nice to have someone to eat with.” Meals since he left had been silent and uninviting. It was difficult to cook for two, but almost impossible to really care about what you ate when you were only making food for yourself. That, and she didn’t really feel like eating anyway. She usually made due with coffee and some oatmeal, if her stomach made her uncomfortable. The house was in a complete state of chaos, so she spent a lot of time in the kitchen, being as it was one of the only rooms that Fred had not touched.

Tomorrow they would be ripping out all of the walls upstairs, so that would be even more disruptive. There would be dust and dirt everywhere! Come to think of it, she would need to spend the rest of the evening moving all of their possessions downstairs. She sighed at the thought.

Teddy swallowed, “I’m sorry if I’m bothering you.” He looked at the pile of her writing on the kitchen table. “I know you asked me not to be here. I just…”

“No, no, it’s not that at all. I’m just thinking about all of the work I have to do tonight. I don’t mind the company.” She smiled up at him and stuck her hands into the pockets of the giant apron.

“Is there anything you need help with?” he offered. It was almost dark and he should probably be heading back to Aunt Katie’s but he couldn’t help but offer. He watched as she pushed some fly-away strands of hair away from her face. He had noticed the braid before and wondered why she hadn’t put her hair up. She never wore it down in public, but he supposed that this wasn’t exactly public. Her hair was still thick and mostly the glossy ebony that he loved. There were two wings of white at her temples that set off the line of her cheekbones, but there was very little silver elsewhere. He wouldn’t have cared if there were, actually. He shut his left eye for a second and saw the pose that he wanted to draw: Emily under the apple tree with her eyes shut and face to the sun. There were so many lovely lines in that.

Emily thought for a moment, “Well, as a matter of fact, yes. As long as you don’t mind moving boxes?” She would be more than glad of the help and was thrilled that he might actually be able to stay with her a little bit longer.

“Not at all,” he shrugged. “I’m happy to help.”

 

Teddy had left near eleven o’clock on Friday night. It was a blessing that he had stayed to help her or she never would have got everything done. She had cleared out their bedroom of all of their personal things on the first day and moved all of that to Robin’s room. Fred’s crew had shifted the furniture into the hall. All of the bathroom fixtures were gone, so that room was unusable. Their research from the spare room had already been moved to the living room, as had all of the boys’ things. Most of that was in boxes, and she had just relocated it. Together they had moved all of the linens, all of Emily’s clothing, and the smaller furniture into the living room and dining room. Teddy had also adjusted the placement of some of the items from his studio; some paintings really did need to be protected from the light and dust. He had left with two that he planned to give to his aunt anyway.

Saturday was utter mayhem in the house with people coming and going constantly. Although she retreated to her garden with the new kitten to continue weeding, the sounds of construction and destruction were distracting. She finally grabbed her Jimmy Book and went to the graveyard at New Moon for some peace and quiet. She had not exactly avoided coming here since returning to the Island, but this was the first chance she really had to take the time for a proper visit. Her tiny feline was more than happy to alternatively scamper about, chasing this moth or that dragonfly, and then sleep in the sunbeams that streamed through the trees.

Emily walked between the rows of stones slowly. The names were all familiar to her and their placement as constant as anything could be in the chaos that was her life. The older markers were faded and pitted with age now and Emily stopped to pull away weeds that blocked many of them. Although Paul was very thorough in maintaining the grass that grew here, he had not done much more than that. There had once been a wooden picket fence surrounding the yard, carefully white-washed by Cousin Jimmy every spring. That had been replaced with a more modern black, wrought-iron one. Obviously it was easier to take care of, but it made the whole place seem less welcoming than it had once been. Emily supposed that ‘welcoming’ wasn’t a descriptor that would normally be applied to one’s final resting place, but the Murray family plot had never had the foreboding and sinister feel that had been attributed to cemeteries in recent years.

She stopped in front of her Aunt Elizabeth’s stone and crouched down in front of it, using the tips of her fingers to remove the tiny flakes of lichen that had taken hold in the square corners of the letters. The writing on it was simple, no verse or flowery script here.

_“Elizabeth Ann Murray_

_1840 – 1913”_

She had cried when her aunt died – not in public, of course. That would never do! Aunt Elizabeth herself thought it unseemly that anyone should show such an uncontrolled display of emotion to strangers.

She remembered exactly how it happened. Three days after the funeral they had come from eating dinner at New Moon. She and Teddy had spent a lot of their meals there immediately after. Although Aunt Laura was more than capable of cooking, it seemed unfair to leave her and Cousin Jimmy alone. Emily knew, in her heart, that she simply wanted to reassure herself that they were still there. It was cold that January, and Teddy had left her in the house to go and bring in an armload of wood to start a fire, promising her an evening of quiet in the cozy shelter of their living room.

Emily was in the kitchen. She wasn’t sure what she had gone in there for, but she was in the pantry, busying herself with moving jars of preserves so that the oldest ones were in the front, to be used first. It wouldn’t be right for her aunt to come up here and see that she was being wasteful! All of a sudden, it hit her. Aunt Elizabeth would not come and check her pantry, or her ironing, or help her figure out the intricacies of a difficult sock pattern, ever again. Teddy had found her, sobbing over a jar of preserves. He had held her in his arms and let her cry it out, without trying to make it better. He knew how much her aunt meant to her.

Emily wiped away the stray tear that was meandering down her face and sat down to look at the stone. “What should I do?” she whispered. More tears came then, and she didn’t bother to stop them. She honestly didn’t know what her aunt would have said. She wasn’t even sure that she would have told her what was going on. To speak of such private and personal matters would be indecent – she knew her aunt would say that.

But then again, Elizabeth had never been married. What might have seemed inappropriate or unmentionable to her was part of why she loved her husband so much. Oh yes, she loved him, still… It hurt to think about what he had done, but really, was it worth giving up nearly forty years for it? Was it just her pride that made her angry? She looked at her aunt’s name and shook her head, Murray pride was not always a good thing. She had thought about the idea of Teddy being with another woman and more than anything else, it scared her. What if he really wanted that? What if he woke up some morning and decided that she was no longer what he needed? Wasn’t that what she was really afraid of? Could she handle it if he did choose someone else?

She looked to the left of her aunt’s stone and saw the larger, newer one beside it. This one had a verse on it. She knew it by heart; she had chosen it.

_"Perhaps they are not stars, but rather openings in heaven where the love of our lost ones pours through and shines down upon us to let us know they are happy."_

_James David Douglas Kent_

_1919_

_Francis Gardiner Kent_

_1922-1941_

_“Our Boys”_

              

She moved closer to that stone and let her hand rest on the words for a moment. Frank was not here, at least not in body, and the tiny soul that had been the joy of their return home was long at peace. Somehow she had wanted them to be here together though, and had replaced Jed’s plain stone with this one the year after Frank died, coming alone to see to its placement when Cousin Jimmy had passed peacefully in his sleep that summer. She wasn’t sure whether or not Teddy had seen it; they had never come up here together. She slowly traced the letters in her sons’ names with the end of her ring finger. Then the last two words – Our Boys.

There weren’t enough tears; there never had been. She let her head rest against the cool granite and watched as they fell in dark droplets that made the quartz sparkle against the black stone. She sat there for a long time without moving, and let it settle around her. The evening birds began to make their songs as the shadows lengthened and she stayed where she was. The breeze from the ocean flirted with the cooler air from evening and played in the leaves and her hair, and still she sat, her hand over those words like they would rest on a heartbeat, willing to feel it.

It came to her with the utter surety that she thought was lost from her life forever. He had chosen. So long ago, he had come to her and told her how much he cared. They had built their tiny castle together and made their children in the most private and precious partnership. He had chosen. There could be no one else for either of them. She knew that, as surely as she felt that her boys knew that she was here. She looked up at the beginning of night, at the stars as they found their way into the quilted landscape of the heavens. Their star shone, perhaps not brilliantly, but faithfully. The knowledge that he was hers and she his was there, written across the sky.

She rolled to her knees and pressed her lips to the stone, softly. “Goodnight,” she said gently, “Mum and Daddy love you.”

              


	14. "Don't Kill the Magic"

_“If you want space (you could have it)_

_If you want change (I'll make it drastic)_

_Sleep on your bed (I'll be your mattress)_

_Bullet to my head (you could blast it)_

_Ohh! If you want love! (I'll be tragic)_

_The way that you love (I can match it)_

_If you want time (I'll be elastic)_

_Tell you no lie (You can have it) No lie_

_Just don't kill, don't kill the magic_

_Just don't kill, don't kill the magic_

_I'm not ready to give up just yet_

_We could stay until we both forget_

_So baby, don't kill, (don't kill) don't kill the magic_

_Take my arms, take my legs, take my vision_

_Take my tongue, take my lungs, if you need it_

_On my knees, On my knees, On my knees, I beg.”_

_\- Magic – “Don’t Kill the Magic”_

               Emily slept better that Saturday night than she had in the entire time she had been at Cashlin, and for the first morning in ten, she did not wake to the sound of hammering. Instead, she woke with the rays of a perfect sunrise on her face as it streamed in the living room window when it came over the horizon and the pines. She stretched and rose, making her way to the kitchen to make coffee. While she waited for it to perk, she stepped out onto the front porch. The breeze was warm and light against her bare legs and she sat down on the steps to enjoy the first moments of daylight in peace and quiet. She had always loved this; rising before anyone was really about and letting the day come to her in tranquility and a gentle awakening. Teddy used to sit with her on mornings like this, when they would both be up before their children. There was no need for words between them. They would sit in each other’s company in silence, just loving the fact that they were together and that their world was right.

               Emily stretched her legs and let her toes curl into the warm dirt at the foot of the stairs. She watched as an earnest bumble bee made its way from bee balm to coreopsis, and on to the delphiniums that were almost finished, gathering pollen. These were always the times when she felt she didn’t need to write everything down; she could simply experience it and let it be with her for the day.

               Today was Sunday. She let her head rest on the post of the porch railing and thought about going to church. She supposed that it might be a good idea if she did. Yesterday, while a revelation and a respite from the horrible doubts that she had been plagued by for the past weeks, was not really what her Aunt Elizabeth would have called religion – more like something pagan and not quite respectable. For the memory that she had wished to honor yesterday, and every day if the truth be told, Emily made the decision to go back to her roots and attend church like a good Presbyterian Murray would and should.

              

               The Blair Water church had changed somewhat since her last visit, Emily thought, as she rounded the corner and looked at it thoughtfully. There was a new spire and bell, for one, and a parking lot with actual cars in it. In her day, people had left their buggies with horses in a line along the road, if they drove anything at all. She was glad that she had walked. It was a glorious morning, still, and she had the opportunity to write a description of some beautiful wild irises on a spare sheet of paper that was tucked into her Bible. She smiled to herself at that, remembering how she would always have paper and a pencil on hand in church and how her aunts were scandalized when they discovered that was why she was being so quiet during the sermons.

               She straightened her long sweater and patted her hair as she stepped up the three stairs and entered. En route to the Murray family pew, by force of habit, she discovered that it was actually full. Bea, Paul, their four children, her cousin Andrew and his wife Gladys were already sitting there. She shrugged to herself. It didn’t really matter, she could just as easily sit at the back. She was on her way there when she saw Aunt Katie and Teddy in a pew near the middle. Not wanting to ignore them, she nodded and smiled. Katie beckoned her over and she straightened her shoulders and walked up to them. “Good morning!” she said, as cheerfully as she could muster. Even though she had made her choice, there was certainly a lot to think about before it could come to fruition.

               Katie grinned, “Glad you made it! I was going to call you, but I didn’t want to wake you on your day of not having a hammer!” She winked and then slid over, “Sit with us. Your relations have usurped your usual spot.”

               Emily smiled slightly and slid past Teddy, hoping to take the spot on the other side of Aunt Katie. It was not to be. Katie moved over and let her sit next to her husband. She did so and looked over at him briefly, “How are you?”

               Teddy looked at her and tried to muster a smile, in spite of the nerves, “I’m alright, I guess. It is a beautiful morning. I was out for a walk and saw the most glorious sunrise!” He proceeded to describe it to her, not mentioning that he had walked up to Cashlin and seen her in their usual spot, enjoying the morning as they had done together so many times. The urge to wrap his arm around her and pull her back out into the fresh air was almost uncontrollable. The last place he wanted to be was inside, especially crammed into a building with a hundred others. He wasn’t particularly a fan of church – never had been. He and Emily always attended regularly here, but never anywhere else, unless Robin was playing. When the sermon started, he sighed slightly and leaned back in his seat. He couldn’t hear a thing the minister or deacons were saying and singing was impossible, so he let his mind wander.

               Beside him, Emily was sitting straight and tall, her eyes darting around the room to see who she knew and which faces were unfamiliar. He knew she wasn’t listening to what was being said either, but was slightly shocked when he felt her slide her Bible onto his knee. He looked down and watched as she opened it to the blank page and pulled the pencil from the spine. She scribbled something at the top and then looked at him sideways and winked.

               He took the pencil from her and read her writing quickly:

_“We haven’t been here in almost twenty years and I swear I have heard this sermon before! I only brought one pencil, but you’re welcome to it.”_

               He smiled, in spite of himself and let his hand move across the paper quickly, capturing the congregation in their purest form. Bea Murray’s hat was a triple layer cake with rather glamorous birds on it, and Andrew’s whiskers were a small badger, sprouting from his upper lip and chin. He felt his wife shake with laughter as she kept one eye on his work and the other on the church service that was going on in front of them, urging him to stand as needed, and to sit back down when the hymn was over. At one point, she folded the Bible neatly over his finger and pulled out her purse for the offering. Teddy stopped her hand gently and shook his head, pulling out his own wallet and dropping a few bills in the collection plate when it passed them. He saw her look down at her hands and then up at him in question and nodded. They could talk later. As the service ended and Teddy completed one last sketch of a young couple and their child, Emily stood up beside him with his aunt. He handed her back her Bible and murmured, “Thanks. You saved me.”

               Emily pursed her lips in a hidden smile and they walked together back down the aisle to the front entrance. The minister did not know them, nor they him, but that simply meant that he would make certain to acknowledge their presence.

               “Welcome to Blair Water! I’m Reverend Jackson. Are you folks new here? Summering on the Island?” he smiled at the couple in front of him.

               Katherine Gardiner stepped up, “Walter, this is my nephew and his wife, Frederick and Emily Kent. If you check the register, you’ll find they are both members of the church and have been since before you were born or thought of!” She sniffed and shook her head, “And please don’t use any more of Old Reverend Baker’s sermons! They were dull and uninspiring the first time we heard them!” She stepped down the stairs and walked away from the church, leaving the young man to tug at his collar, uncomfortably.

               Emily smiled congenially, “We are happy to be here this Sunday, Reverend. Thank you for having us.” She put her hand in the curve of Teddy’s elbow out of habit and they turned and went to join Katie. She looked up when Teddy put his hand over hers. It was a gesture that he had made a thousand times, but it still felt wonderful to her.

               He looked down, “One good thing about not being able to hear is that it’s a new church service every time.” He winked at her and squeezed her hand, not letting go of it when he was done. They walked slowly to down the road together and he nodded at the few people that he recognized. Many faces looked familiar, but he couldn’t exactly place where he knew them from. His aunt had stopped up ahead to speak to an older lady that he thought might have once worked in the post office, but he wasn’t sure about that. He heard Emily mutter something, but didn’t hear what she said and leaned closer, “What was that, dear?”

               She whispered in his right ear, “If you want to pay me back for the pencil, steer me away from Andrew!” If there was one person that she didn’t want to talk to, it was her cousin. Their personal problems were not common knowledge, but between Ilse, Bea, and Katie, and the close proximity of the New Moon folks, they were bound to have just enough information to make it very uncomfortable. That, and Andrew was already making some grumbling noises about wanting the farm back. Emily fully intended to leave New Moon to Paul when she died, but she did not want anyone to force her hand.

               “Done,” he said softly, and turned her to the left toward the path that led to the water. It wasn’t entirely altruistic; he had wanted a chance to be alone with her since he left Cashlin the other night. He noticed that Andrew tried, unsuccessfully, to disentangle himself from the conversation with the new county clerk to follow them, but they made it out of the line of fire. He still held her arm when they finally reached the pebbled beach area that the town had cleared. There were benches and picnic tables there now, but still plenty of room to walk.

               Emily breathed a sigh of relief, “Thanks. I forgot that sometimes going to church is as much about turning the other cheek as anything else.” Teddy had not let go of her hand and she didn’t try to move away. They stopped to watch the water for a second and she let her head rest on his shoulder, as she had done too many times to count.

               Although he wanted to talk to her about what was going on between them, he also needed to make sure that everything was alright, “Is Andrew bothering you? Do I need to talk to him?”

               Emily shrugged, “No more than usual, except that we are both here now and he has the chance to say things in person. Maybe I’m being greedy, or just trying to hold onto something that I don’t need, I don’t know…” she shook her head.

               “You’re not selfish,” Teddy stated, firmly. “The farm belongs to your family. You own it, but it’s Murray land. Andrew should be thankful that it is still in your family, let alone arguing with you over who has the deed. He also hasn’t bothered to pay anything toward the upkeep in thirty-five years; that alone means something.” Although he had purchased the farm for Emily before he left for the war, she had maintained it with her own money. He didn’t know a lot about her personal finances – he had never bothered to ask – but he did know that she took care of everything that had to do with her family’s home on her own.

               “It’s not the money,” she shook her head. “It’s the principle of the thing. That’s where the bloody Murray pride does me in. I’ll fight tooth and nail for something just because I think I should have it, even if it’s not something that I need.” She looked out at the water and took a deep breath to calm herself.

               Teddy did not know how to respond to that. She was talking about the farm, but couldn’t she also be talking about their marriage? He knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he was completely dependent upon Emily. Without her, he was at a loss. There were so many things that she did for him, was for him, and gave to him that when she was not there he felt like some vital part of him was missing. Right here and right now he could pretend that they weren’t living apart because her arm was linked with his and he could feel her reassuring presence down the length of his body. But when she left him, as he knew she would at some point today, he would feel incomplete and empty. Every night he had lain in bed at the Tansy Patch and thought about her. Sometimes it was just about how it felt to watch her sleep – that tiny crease in her forehead that came when she worried about things or was tired would disappear and underneath the blue-veined lids, her eyes would smile. Most nights, her hand would rest on his chest, just over his heart. He loved when she did that. It reminded him of the first night he had ever spent with her, the first night he had ever actually fallen asleep with a woman. She had done that then, for the first time of many. Other times he would think about how it felt to hold her in his arms and pull them closer than ever; yet another reminder of their first night together. She wasn’t just his soul-mate, she was the only woman he had ever given his heart and soul to. But did she actually _need_ him? He wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer to that.

               Emily shook her head in resolution, “I don’t want to sell the farm, not now and not ever, unless there is a need to.” After visiting the graveyard yesterday, she wasn’t sure that she could give up that piece of herself entirely into someone else’s care. She wanted to tell Teddy about visiting the boys, but wasn’t quite sure how to start that conversation. It was certainly not one that could be had when there was even the smallest chance they might be interrupted.

               Teddy squeezed her hand in acknowledgement, “You let me know if I can help, alright?” He had dealt with both Andrew and his father in the past and knew that they both believed that Emily had no idea what it meant to own property. Nothing could be further from the truth! In fact, Emily was a far better home owner that he was.

               “There you are!” Katherine Gardiner joined them on the beach and smiled at the sight of them together, “I was wondering where you ran off to so quickly.” She came up to stand beside them, “Can’t say as I blame you; there was an awful crowd there today and they all likely want to talk to the two of you.” She shrugged, “Be that as it may, I hope you invited her to Sunday dinner, Teddy?”

               Teddy had forgotten all about that. Aunt Katie had mentioned that they should invite her over on their way to church this morning. Amid everything else that was going on, he had neglected to actually offer the invitation. “I didn’t get a chance to, but I do hope you’ll come?” He looked down at Emily in question. “We’re having roast beef and you know Aunt Katie does that better than anyone.” He waited for her answer, hopefully.

               “I wouldn’t want to intrude,” Emily said. Actually, she was wondering what she was going to put together for a meal today. She had not been to the store recently and the cupboards were getting a bit bare. That, and she hadn’t be hungry or bothered to plan meals when there was no one there to share them with. Unlike in New York, there would be nothing available for sale on a Sunday in Blair Water or any of the surrounding communities.

               “You’re coming!” Katie stated, brooking no argument. She looked up at her nephew, “Walk her home and then hurry back down; I need your help with a few things. Say five o’clock, Emily?” Katie knew that both of them were dying to spend some time alone, but if she knew one thing, she knew that a little bit of waiting and wanting went a long way.

               Emily smiled and accepted the invitation happily. She would be lucky to escape New Moon tonight and would much rather spend the evening with Teddy, however chaperoned.

 

               Five o’clock came, and Teddy was pacing. He had changed from his church clothes into a suit and tie until his aunt came in and told him that he looked like an undertaker. Then he re-evaluated and put on a nice pair of dress slacks and a chambray shirt without a tie. That earned her approval and smile that he really thought was amazing. His aunt was truly a lovely woman, beautiful some might say. He told her that, and she just shook her head, muttering something about him losing his eyesight at a young age. The idea of painting a portrait of Aunt Katie had distracted him for a few minutes, but not enough to keep him from wondering where Emily might be. He looked at the clock over the mantle in the dining room as he passed it, on his third circuit from the kitchen and around the house. It was nearly five thirty! He had wine out, ready to pour the minute she got there. Although it might have been a bit of a faux pas, he had actually got it from their own cellar at Cashlin. There were several truly amazing bottles down there and he had chosen two of Emily’s favorites. He only hoped that she would actually arrive to help him drink them.

               “Land’s sakes! What on earth happened to you?” Katie exclaimed from the kitchen.

               Teddy stopped cold, his heart racing.

               Emily sighed and slumped down into the chair that Katie offered her in the kitchen with gratitude, “Utter, stupid vanity is what happened to me!” She leaned down and shuddered when she saw her ankle, swollen to twice its normal size. She had decided to wear one of her nicer pairs of slacks and an amethyst colored dress shirt to dinner. The pants were just long enough to need heels and she had put them on, not thinking at all about the gravel road that she would have to take to get here. One misstep and she had landed awkwardly, wrenching her ankle in just the wrong way. It was her bad one anyway and prone to be weaker than the other.

               “Here,” Katie said, efficiently, “Put this ice on it for now and let’s get it up a bit higher.” She took a cushion from the chair by the phone and lifted Emily’s leg gingerly. She looked up when Teddy walked in, “Here now, Laddie go and get her a sweater, she’s chilled to the bone!”

               Teddy looked at his wife in concern, but she had her head back on the chair and her eyes closed. He dashed up the stairs and grabbed the first sweater that he could find in his own room and then sprinted back down. “Here, love,” he said softly, wrapping it around her shoulders gently.

               She opened her eyes and nodded in thanks. She saw the absolute terror on his face and squeezed his left hand with hers in reassurance, “I just twisted it, that’s all. Nothing’s broken.” She groaned when she moved it and shut her eyes for a second. She kicked off her other shoe and sighed in frustration, so much for a grand and elegant entrance! She had wanted to look nice this evening, hoping to spend some time talking to Teddy alone, but guessed that it was not to be now that she was among the walking wounded.

               Teddy nodded firmly, deciding on his next course of action, “I’ll call Ben.” He looked at his watch, “He can catch the next flight and be here before morning. You need someone to…”

               “Good God, Laddie!” Katie interrupted. “She only twisted her ankle, this isn’t the plague! _If_ she needs a doctor, there is a fine new one in town.” She looked at Emily and handed her a cup of hot water, laced with her best Scotch, “Actually, you know her parents, and grandparents, likely. You know the Blythe’s from up at the harbor?”

               Teddy looked up in question. He hadn’t really heard a word that his aunt said. It was always difficult for him to hear anything when he was upset. The doctors had said something about blood pressure and equilibrium, but all he knew was that it made things worse. He still held onto Emily’s hand and moved the other chair closer to her so that he could keep his arm around her.

               Emily nodded and took a sip of her drink, “Ken and Rilla’s daughter? Really?” She had heard in a gossipy letter from Rilla a few months ago that their daughter was back on the Island, working with her uncle and taking over the last of her grandfather’s patients. Anne had finally convinced Gilbert to retire when he turned eighty. “Good for her! I know it has been a difficult road. There are so many stereotypes that she has had to fight.” She let her head relax onto Teddy’s arm and looked at him, “I’m fine. Don’t worry.” She could tell by his face that he was more upset about this than he should be. She passed him her cup, “Here, you need a sip of this as much as I do.” Although he didn’t know it, she did pay attention to his health a lot more than he did. Ben had cautioned her that she really needed to watch his blood pressure and keep it under control. It had nothing to do with his ears, although that was how he always gauged it.

               Katie nodded, “For all of the wonderful developments, women are still second-class citizens in some respects.” She snorted and shut the oven door again, turning to Emily, “Let’s have a look at that ankle and see how it’s doing.” She removed the ice pack and nodded, “Swelling has gone down already, but I think we should keep it up for the evening.” She looked up at her nephew and smiled, “Your lady will live, Laddie. Now go and get the things from the dining room. We’re all family and can eat in the kitchen instead of making her move.”

               Teddy took a deep breath of relief and squeezed Emily’s shoulder briefly, then left to do as his aunt asked.

               Katie looked at Emily, “Are you going to give him a chance?” She had to ask that as plainly as she could. They would not have much time alone and if the answer was no, she would have to figure out how to change Emily’s mind.

               Emily looked at the door her husband had left through and nodded, “Yes, of course I am. I just need to figure out how it’s going to work. I don’t want it to happen again and we also need to deal with some other stuff as well.” She looked at her aunt and cleared her throat, nervously. She needed to say this, but didn’t want Katie to take offense, “If you don’t mind, can you please keep this between us? We really don’t need all of Blair Water knowing our business.”

               Katie nodded, “I understand. Bea and Paul have been more than inquisitive; partly to do with Bea’s mother, I’m sure. Today was the first day I took him to town, and since you were there with him I think a lot of the gossip has been squashed.” She saw Teddy coming back with a precarious armload of her best dishes, “You two really should listen in church, though. Don’t you have enough writing and drawing time on your own?” She rescued her sugar bowl as it nearly toppled to the floor, “Laddie, for God’s sake, this is your grandmother’s china! Use a platter or something next time!” She shook her head and started to set the table.

              

               Dinner was wonderful. True to Teddy’s word, Katherine Gardiner cooked an amazing roast of beef. Her gravy was like liquid gold and the mashed potatoes buttery and delicious with the little bits of skin left in for flavor. They sat at the table for a long time afterward, talking about all of the changes that had gone on in town. Teddy took care of cleaning up from dinner and kept everyone’s glass full of wine.

At one point, Katie looked at the burgundy liquid that swirled in her crystal glass and shook her head, “You did not get this in Canada.” She took another sip and smiled delightfully. “You can taste France in this.”

Teddy nodded and looked at Emily, sheepishly, “I borrowed some from the cellar. It’s the last of that case we got when we visited Rheims in ’38.”

Emily shrugged and frowned slightly, “Sorry to see that go, but happy to help it on its way.” She took another sip and glanced at Aunt Katie quickly.

The older woman caught the signal from her niece and rose from her chair, taking her glass with her, “It’s goodnight for the octogenarian, I am afraid. Just can’t keep up with you two whippersnappers! Lock up when you’re to bed, Laddie. Have a nice night, you two!” With that, she left the kitchen and took the stairs up to the bedrooms.

Teddy shifted slightly in the uncomfortable chair. He realized that he should have at least brought Emily one of the padded dining chairs to sit on. This was likely very awkward for her. “Would you like to talk in the living room?” he asked quietly.

Emily nodded and lifted her foot gingerly from the pillow it was resting on. She had been icing it on and off all evening and it felt better, but she wasn’t sure what would happen when she put weight on it. She held onto the table and stood up, getting her balance on one foot before she attempted anything else. Teddy was right beside her instantly, his arm around her waist.

“I’ll carry you. You shouldn’t walk on it,” he said, firmly.

Emily rolled her eyes, “Who will need the doctor then? You don’t need to carry me, just lend me your arm in case.” She held his forearm for support and touched the floor with her left foot, gently at first, testing the level of discomfort that would come from standing on it. “Ow!” She tightened her grip on his arm and shrugged, “I need some help after all.”

With Emily safely ensconced on the sofa, her ankle elevated and the ice pack close at hand. Teddy made a fire and brought out their wine glasses, sitting down on the floor beside her so that she was on his right-hand side. He would rather that than have to keep asking her what she said.

Emily smoothed his hair away from his face automatically, “You worry too much about me. I’ll be alright – a minor demon from the past to fight into submission.”

He let his head rest back on the couch and looked up at her, “I remember that winter when you were ill after you fell. It was horrible! I was so far away from you and I was just worried sick. Mother wrote to me every week and the news was worse every time. I don’t know what I would have done if something had happened to you.” He shook his head, not bothering to mention that he had also been insanely jealous about Dean Priest being with her so much. They had dealt with that a long time ago and there was no need to bring it up now.

She stared at the fire and let her hand rest in his hair, “We’ve been through a lot in our time, haven’t we?” Her thoughts went automatically to their boys and the tears made everything blurry for a moment. She had been comforted when she visited their grave stone, but it still didn’t stop the pain.

Teddy reached up and took her free hand, “I’d do it all again in a minute, to do it with you.” He couldn’t be a lot more plain than that, could he?

She looked down at him and watched him wrestle with all of the things that he wanted to say. You could see it in his face, whenever he struggled with emotion. He would frown and the lines in his forehead would deepen. It looked like he was angry, unless you know what you were looking at. She did. Her fingers moved to smooth the lines, gently. Jed had those, once upon a time. Their girls had his eyes though, and that she dearly loved. The deep navy could sparkle with humor or darken with passion; both were parts of her husband that she treasured.

              

There was no way that Teddy was about to let her walk home. It was almost midnight when she made mention of the fact that Fred would come early in the morning. He immediately offered to drive her home and she accepted. Her ankle felt a bit better, or at least she said it did, and she was able to hobble to the car with only a little bit of help from him. The short drive up the hill was not long enough for any sort of conversation, and when they stopped in front of Cashlin he was a bit at a loss for words.

He wanted to come in with her and stay there forever, but she hadn’t asked him to. He wanted to spend more time with her, but it was late, and he was not about to force her to do something she didn’t want to. What about a date? He pursed his lips and decided to give it a shot. Aunt Katie had told him that she deserved a bit of romancing, and he couldn’t disagree with that. He wasn’t above using any trick in the book – Gardiner and Kent genes notwithstanding – to spend time with her. “Would you like to come for a drive with me tomorrow?”

“A drive?” Emily asked curiously. “Where to?” She was hoping that he would ask to stay here with her tonight, but on second thought, where on earth would she put him? She was sleeping on the sofa in the living room herself. The thought of sharing it with him brought a flush to her cheeks.

“Maybe up to the north tip of the Island? I’ll bring lunch and we can just spend a day together. I know it’s probably too loud to hear yourself think around here.” He didn’t want to admit that he had overheard her conversation with his aunt, but on the other hand, it was okay to play a couple of good cards, if you had them, wasn’t it? Emily was blushing.

Emily agreed with him wholeheartedly; it was unbearable to try and stay in the house while Fred and his crew were working.

 

Emily had a bath, in spite of how much work it was to haul out the tub and fill it with water. There was no way that she was going to spend a day out with him looking like something the cat dragged in, literally. Her ankle was tender, but well enough to walk on without any help at all. A night of rest had done it the world of good. Speaking of, her dear wee grey beastie was an incredible cuddler and a decent mouser too. He had deposited a dead chipmunk at her feet this morning when she returned from using the outhouse.

Emily looked at her reflection in the mirror that hung above the sideboard in the dining room. Most of her toiletries were in here, simply because there was no other place to put them. She smoothed her hair and then took a deep breath. Well, it was what it was. She looked into the small jewelry box and appraised its contents carefully. There was no need for fancy today, nor did she really feel like it. She took out a pair of diamond stud earrings and threaded them through her pierced ears. That had been their daughter’s doing. Laura wanted her ears pierced and Teddy forbade it. Emily didn’t think it was worth all of the fuss, so she went and had hers pierced on the same day as her daughter. Teddy had not said anything outright when she told him, but a week later she had found these on her writing desk one morning. Laura had a pair that matched exactly.

Her rings. She stared at them all. They were all alike: bands of platinum holding stones all around them. She had one for each of their children – Robin’s garnets, Jed’s sapphires, Frank’s amethysts, and a double band of emeralds for Laura, since it was her birthstone too. There was a stack of others with a variety of stones in them, given to her on other special days. She had put her wedding ring back on after he left the house last night and she held up her hand and looked at it for a second, then slid on the rings for their children. You couldn’t give a lot more acknowledgement than that! She smoothed her navy linen pants and made sure that her shirt was not too wrinkled. It was almost sheer and had a row of pearl buttons down the back. Underneath it she wore a lacy camisole. It had been a difficult choice to decide what to wear today, but she made up her mind to at least look reasonably attractive. She had a large Hermes silk scarf with gold and blue as the main colors in it and she knotted it around her shoulders as Coco did. She chose a pair of extremely sensible shoes. Based on her experience last night, there was nothing else she could do. Well there, then. That would have to do.

She headed back to the living room and folded the sheets and blankets that served as her bed into a neat pile. If they came back here afterward, they would need a place to sit. She sat down on the couch herself and stared at her hands for a second, then shook her head, “You’re a bloody, romantic fool, E.B.!” She picked up her notebook and pen and began to write. Although she had found it difficult to concentrate on her fiction work of late, she did have a bit of a moil in her most recent Applegath book that she really needed to figure out. She knew what she wanted to happen, but it was a bit of a trick to make it work out without being predictable. She sketched it a couple of different ways and then drew a line across each one of them in frustration. Too trite and too convoluted, by turns. The Applegath books were getting harder and harder to write. For Emily, the story was finished. Peg and Garth had their happy ending; a family, a beautiful home, and a wonderful life. What point was there in showing their day-to-day life after that? No one really wanted to know about that, did they? What happened to ‘ever after’ when it truly was happy? For Emily, it had gone on a little too long.

As if knowing she needed a break, her cat hopped up on the coffee table and swatted his paw in the air. She looked at him appraisingly, “What shall we call you, hmm?” She had asked his opinion of several different names over the past few days, but none really suited. Suddenly, she smiled. “Ren. You’re Ren, aren’t you?” The cat stared at her and then purred against her hand. “Ren for Renovation. That’s certainly true of so many things in our life right now, isn’t it?”

 

Emily settled back into the seat and shut her eyes, letting the sun caress her face and the wind blow over her. It was too loud to talk to Teddy in the convertible, so she might as well relax and let him drive. Besides that, she was more than nervous about this. When he arrived, he had come with flowers for her, picked this morning. They were lovely Bluebead lilies, white-golden and fragrant, and tied with a pink ribbon. He had also kissed her. It wasn’t exactly a peck on the cheek, but she wasn’t sure what else to call it. His lips had slid from just beside her earlobe, across her cheek to the tiny crease in the corner where her lips met. Had he not been holding her elbow at the time, she was sure she would have melted into the floor. Even now, she felt her neck and cheeks go crimson at the memory. Luckily, the sun and wind would hide it. Was it wrong for her to feel giddy about a kiss from a man she had known as her husband for almost four decades?

Teddy looked over at her quickly as he drove. She had leaned back and shut her eyes and looked thoroughly relaxed. He shook his head slightly in bewilderment and looked back at the road again; Emily seemed to be blushing a lot lately. He took a jog in the road that would lead them along the coast to drive to the north end of the Island. He loved driving this car. They might have chosen any of a number of vehicles for the trip from New York to Canada, but the Austin Atlantic convertible was amazing. Emily always loved the wind in her hair.

She opened her eyes and watched as the sea and dunes sped by on her right. She raised her sunglasses and watched the surf roll into the red sand, glittering crystal foam on perfect powder blue. She was a sucker for alliteration, even now, and grabbed her Jimmy book from her purse to write that down, murmuring the description aloud to let it settle and raising her eyes to find the right word where it was incomplete. As she wrote, she thought a bit about reflection and refraction – light was really an amazing thing! She remembered one summer when she and Teddy had taken a walk on the beach. They had been twelve or so at the time and she couldn’t really remember why they happened to be alone on this particular day. Teddy had been reading something about the weather in one of their school books and proceeded to explain that clouds were really just messy gatherings of raindrops in the atmosphere, reflecting the light from the sun, rather than the fantastical shapes and shadows that she always described them as and he always painted them as. They had argued about that. In fact, they had always been prone to arguing over the strangest things, and usually things that they both agreed upon. How apropos! Emily let the laughter bubble over her lips and sighed back into her seat, looking over at him.

He parked the car at an overlook just in time to hear her laugh and looked at her in question, “Is my parking really that bad?”

She shook her head and smiled, tossing her book back into her purse, “Come on!” She opened her own car door and hurried down to the sand, as fast as her injured ankle would allow her, doffing her shoes at the foot of the dunes. She rolled up her pant legs and waded into the surf, shutting her eyes and raising her face to the sun once more. The cool sea water felt amazing on her feet and the sand between her toes was like stepping on the clouds themselves. She felt Teddy join her and eased backward to stand in front of him, resting her head on his shoulder as she looked up. His arms came around her automatically and she slid her hands over his, letting it settle for a moment, before speaking, “There is a lot in life that we can’t control, isn’t there?”

He nodded and held onto her more tightly. What he wanted was to turn her around in his arms and kiss her until the tide took them away. He figured that might be a bit much, so soon, and instead pressed his cheek into her hair and kissed her temple lightly. “I love you so much, Emily.” He had never been able to control that. He knew that he would have, if he could, but it was absolutely and completely beyond him.

She dropped her head and looked at their hands together, sliding her fingers to lace with his. She squeezed them gently, “I love you too. We have to start from there again, I think. We can’t keep looking back and try to change what has happened. We can’t.”

He did turn her in his arms then, and cupped her face with both of his hands, “Please tell me that you’re willing to try?” He waited for what seemed like an interminable lifetime for her to answer.

Emily covered his hands with her own and nodded, “Of course I’ll try.”

 

After a long, languid walk along the shore, they made their picnic on the sand just below where they parked. True to his word, Teddy had brought lunch, even to a blanket to sit on. Although his aunt had been more than willing to help him pack it, he had done it on his own, raiding her pantry for supplies. Emily helped him set their impromptu table and looked up in question, “How many people were you expecting?”

There were sandwiches, cheese and homemade bread with butter in a tiny crock, pickles and fresh cherry tomatoes from Katie’s garden. There were hard-boiled eggs and cold roast beef, cookies and half of an apple pie. There was more than enough food for an army.

He shrugged, “I wasn’t sure what you would like, so I just brought everything I know how to make.” He had packed a corkscrew, thankfully, and opened a bottle of white wine, poured for her and handed her the glass.

Emily took a sip and smiled, “You make decent chili when you set your mind to it, but I don’t think we need that today.” She watched him closely as he filled her plate for her, giving her a little bit of everything, true to his word. She accepted the offering and they both tucked in to eat their meal. Teddy was a decent cook, really. He didn’t make anything fancy or complicated, but he could definitely fend for himself in the kitchen, when and if needed. That was something that almost no one on earth knew about him. While Frederick Kent had an army of chefs and ate out in the best restaurants in the world, her Teddy could make meals for himself without a lot of difficulty. The year she had been pregnant with Frank, he had even made Christmas dinner. She wasn’t able to bend over or lift as much as normal and he volunteered. He did ask a lot of questions about timing and that sort of thing, but the meal was delicious in the end. Even Aunt Laura had been impressed. It was also his habit to help her clean up when she did the cooking. That came from living with his mother for so long, she imagined.

She lay back on the blanket and shut her eyes, “I am absolutely and completely full. That was amazing! Thank you!”

Teddy watched her carefully as he stowed the remains of their luncheon and their plates away. They hadn’t talked a lot about anything of any importance, other than their initial discussion when they first got here. He imagined that it might be because Emily wanted to start fresh and just see where things went. He was alright with that, but he did know his wife well enough to know that she had a little weakness. Romance and charm, Aunt Katie had said. Alright, he’d do his best. He lay down beside her, and after taking a bite himself, did what he had been dying to do all day.

Emily knew he was going to kiss her. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure that out. In fact, she wanted him to, and had made the opportunity as obvious as possible without just throwing herself at him. Still, when his lips met hers, she started just a bit. No matter how many times he held her in his arms, she was always surprised by how warm he was. His body seemed to radiate heat all of the time, and his lips were no exception. Once it began, she gave herself over to it completely, letting his body melt into hers. He tasted like…

She pulled her lips from his for a moment, “Chocolate. You have chocolate?” She kissed him again and felt him smile. His hands slid into her hair and she tasted it again. Okay, this was interesting, and damned arousing, as if she needed any help there!

He left her for a second and broke off another tiny square, then returned and kissed her again, gently. He fed her the piece and groaned when her teeth nipped his finger, “Don’t bite the hand that feeds you, love,” he murmured into her ear and then nipped her earlobe gently, just below the diamond he had given her. She always wore Chanel No. 5 behind her ears, and today was no exception. He could taste it on her skin and smell it in her hair.

Emily swallowed the melted chocolate and pulled him back to her lips, “More,” she said simply.

“I thought you were totally satisfied with our meal,” he slid closer to her and let his hand stray from her hair to her shoulder, tracing the bones there with his fingers, gently. Why she even bothered to put on shirts like this was beyond him. You could see and feel everything that was underneath them. But, that was a definite bonus in their current situation.

She tried to laugh, but caught her breath when his hands moved lower. His lips found hers again and opened them to share the sweetness and she forgot all about food.


	15. "All of Me"

_“Cards on the table, we're both showing hearts_

_Risking it all, though it's hard '_

_'Cause all of me_

_Loves all of you_

_Love your curves and all your edges_

_All your perfect imperfections_

_Give your all to me_

_I'll give my all to you_

_Y_ _ou're my end and my beginning_

_Even when I lose I'm winning '_

_Cause I give you all of me_

_And you give me all of you.”_

  * _\- John Legend – “All of Me”_




Emily turned over on her uncomfortable couch and groaned in frustration. Not only was the sofa about six inches too short for her, it was also a lot harder than she remembered it being. It was certainly firmer than the sand this afternoon. She sat up and sighed. Her frustration was not just because of where she was sleeping, but also because of who wasn’t sleeping with her. Although they had enjoyed a lovely hour in each other’s arms today, Teddy had gone no further than amazing kisses and some particularly interesting caresses with his fingertips. He was good at that. It didn’t matter how long they were together, he could always come up with some wonderful new way to touch her, and today had been no exception. He didn’t have painter’s hands for nothing.

The chocolate was good too; he had let her taste wine like that before, but never food. The only thing better than her favorite gastronomical indulgence was to have it fed to her by the man she wanted more than anything in the world. Tasting the creamy sweetness from his lips was even more decadent than the dessert itself.

Okay, thinking about this was not helping! She threw off the covers, burying the sleeping Ren completely. The kitten made a startled “Mrow” in protest and then clawed himself out to look at her. She sighed and scratched his velvet-soft ears in apology, “It’s not you. I just wish you weren’t the only man here.” Saying it out loud made it even worse. She stood up and went to the kitchen and turned on the light above the stove. She didn’t want tea and she didn’t want wine. She didn’t really want to write, but sat down at the table anyway. The old coffee can in the center of it took her attention away from the blank page for a moment.

When they got home this afternoon, just after six o’clock, Fred had already left. Teddy had not come inside with her, rather dropped her off at the gate with a lingering kiss and told her that he needed to get back to the Tansy Patch to help his aunt with something. She came into the house and found this with Fred’s note about the progress for the day.

The tiling in both bathrooms was done, but they had run into a snag with the electrical so would need to wait before finishing that. The electrician would come on Wednesday, so tomorrow they were planning to work on the ceiling in the master bedroom instead. The last line explained that the plumber had found this can between the outside and inside walls of the new en suite.

Emily pulled it toward her and looked at it curiously. It was made of tin and had once been green with the yellow letters “MJB” on it, pronouncing the brand. She remembered that this was one of the special items that her aunts would only serve to visitors; the regular beans that you bought at the general store were good enough for family. She shook it gently. Although it was not heavy, there was definitely something in it. She tried to pull off the lid, but it wouldn’t budge. Hmm. She got up and found a screwdriver in the junk drawer and tried to pry it open. After several unsuccessful attempts, she finally saw it move slightly, so she kept at it, wedging the flat end under the lip all the way around until it finally came loose. She smiled at her success and laid down the screwdriver to look inside. There were two rolled up papers, tied with ribbon.

Emily reached in and pulled them both out, setting the can aside. The paper was old, but not ancient. She had never seen it before, so it must have been there for at least fifty years. That wasn’t all that old, she decided, resolutely. The ribbon was a faded light blue color, but what made her look twice was the knot. She stared at it for a second and then looked up, at the lilies that sat in the Mason jar on the table. The pink ribbon that held them together was tied with the same square knot. She wrinkled her forehead in confusion and then slid the first roll out of the ribbon, careful not to tear it. She unrolled it and her eyes widened in disbelief.

Looking at herself in the mirror was one thing. Looking at herself in the looking glass of her husband’s work was another. It was like being transported back in time to another place and another version of herself. This was a picture that she had never seen before. It was her, in profile, looking out at the sea. She guessed that she might be about seventeen in the sketch, but she wasn’t sure. Part of her guess came from the way it was drawn. It was good. Teddy had always been talented, but it lacked the finesse and confidence of even _The Smiling Girl_ which had been done only a few years later. This was something he had worked on before he left for school in Montreal, if her guess was correct. She smoothed it with her hands and touched the lines gently. If she had not known it by sight, his signature was at the bottom to prove it. It was an earlier, unfinished version of the now infamous “Frederick Kent” scrawl that he signed all of his work with. It was unique and absolutely different than the signature that he used for paperwork. There he used a blunt and scratchy “F” with “Kent” in obvious letters, always written with his Mont Blanc fountain pen with the wide tip. On his paintings, it wasn’t like that at all. The lines were more fluid and he signed his full name in a stacked, combinatorial manner, the tops of some letters forming the bottoms of others. It was the same ‘Frederick Kent’ that he signed on their marriage certificate.

Emily used the salt and pepper shakers and a cup and spoon that were on the table to flatten out the paper completely. Unlike all of his other work, this one was titled at the bottom. One word: “Mine”. She held her breath for a second and moistened her lips with her tongue, considering what she was looking at.

The second roll of paper drew her attention and she opened it, expecting another picture. She was surprised to see his handwriting (or an earlier version of it) covering this page, with lines in her own hand at the top.

_“Hope is the thing with feathers - /that perches in the soul_ _\- /That sings the tune without word - /and never stops – at all –“ - Dickinson_

                               

The paper itself had been torn out of one of her own Jimmy books. She shut her eyes and tried to remember when she might have written this particular quotation down and given it to him, but couldn’t. She unfolded her reading glasses and put them on to read the words below.

_“I’m not a writer, but she is. Sometimes I think that what I do is too obvious, too real, and too simple. What she does is magic. I’m leaving tomorrow to go away to learn to do what I have always wanted to. That is because of Emily. She will never know how precious that gift is to me, and yet so horrible in the giving. To leave here, to leave HER, is impossible for me to comprehend. I am frightened that I will not be good enough to be a real artist, to really make my mark and make her proud, but I am so much more fearful that she will not be here when I come home._

_I tried to tell her that tonight, but the words didn’t come out right. They never do for me. Had I the time to paint her a picture, it might have been different. I would have painted a thousand scenes of our life together, our home, our family, our future. I wish I could have done that for her and made her understand that all I am, all I ever want to be is hers. I had to settle for this one small moment of her. I touched her tonight, put my hand on hers for a second and looked at her. I saw this in the moment before she turned to me. In that moment she was mine. Moments like that are what art is, for me._

_I don’t know why I am writing this, or why it is so important that I do so, but I feel I must. Emily says that sometimes she HAS TO write or simply explode. I have an inkling of that, but my fingers do not itch to hold a pen, they yearn to hold her. The lines that I could draw on her skin, the images we might create together are more than a masterpiece, or they might be, they WILL be! Someday, it will not be only hope that I might hold her in my arms and that she might know my heart. Someday she will be mine, forever.”_

               Emily swallowed, hard. She took off her glasses to wipe her eyes and then put them on again to reread it. Not a writer? Indeed! She smoothed her fingers across the letters, slowly tracing each one. She remembered the night before he left and how she had felt so awkward about it. She had wanted him to say these words to her, wanted to believe that he felt the same as she did. Even now, the pain of him NOT saying them was keen in her heart. In retrospect, it was very seldom what Teddy said to her that hurt, it was what he didn’t say – or couldn’t. Today even. He had wanted to come home, at least she thought he did. But he hadn’t. She looked around her at the dimly lit kitchen and felt the emptiness of the house surround her.

               Murray pride be damned! She didn’t care if anyone thought she was chasing him or if all of the Murray’s in the graveyard were spinning like tops right now. She wanted her husband back, no matter what. Emily placed the two pieces of paper back in their coffee can, along with the ribbons and set the lid on top. Then she went back to the living room and found her clothes. Enough was enough!

              

               Teddy was sleeping in the small bedroom that had always been his, just at the top of the stairs that came from the kitchen. He didn’t typically sleep with the door open, but tonight the air was humid and close and he was trying to catch any breeze that he possibly could. That was probably why he couldn’t sleep. He tossed and turned in the small, single bed that wasn’t really big enough for him. He turned on the light and tried to read, but his book was boring. He set it down and picked up his sketchbook. Drawing Emily might be cathartic, he wasn’t sure. Right now, he wanted her in his arms more than anything in the world. Today had been wonderful, but absolutely maddening at the same time. He didn’t want to take advantage of her. Well, he did, but he didn’t want her to think that he only wanted one thing. At three o’clock in the morning, he didn’t care if she thought that. As a matter of fact, he rather hoped she thought the same thing.

His pencil flew over the line of her collarbone, three of his fingers could perch there, the fourth sliding down into the tiny crease under her arm; he knew that from years of practice. The curve of her neck and jaw were as familiar to him as his own – more so, in fact. He shut his eyes in response to what he was doing. Drawing his wife was not making love to his wife, but it didn’t do anything to stop him from wanting it – the reverse actually.

               His eyes flew open when he heard the knock at the kitchen door. He grabbed his jeans and tugged them on, taking the stairs quickly. He didn’t turn on the porch light, but saw her in the glow from his light above and the moon that shone in, reflected on the water. “Emily?” Was he actually asleep and dreaming this?

               She nodded once and then whispered something.

               Teddy blinked and stepped closer, “I didn’t hear you, love.” His hand slid to the screen of the door between them. He shuddered when hers met it and their palms touched. It was like a jolt of pure electricity between them.

               “Please come home?” she said, this time loud enough for him to hear.


	16. "Sandcastles"

_“Well the east wing is done And now for the west_

_We should build a few more rooms for our friends and guests._

_When we finally finish the north and the south,_

_I’ll show you why I chose you and why you are mine_

_‘Cause your ears are like the shells I found_

_They listen to my soul_

_Your eyes reflect the water and our little sandcastle seems real._

_I want to leave this world and go to a place where_

_No one gets hurt and no one dies_

_and your tears are scared of leaving your eyes_

_So grab the shovel and start digging deep_

_‘Cause our little sandcastle is all we can keep.”_

_\- A Firm Handshake – “Sandcastles”_

 

               “Teddy?”

               He rolled over and reached for her, smiling when her lips met his. The smile stopped when he felt their brief kiss end and she pulled away from him.

               “Fred’s here,” she said, softly.

               Teddy opened one eye and looked at her, blinking in the bright sunlight that streamed through the studio windows. “Again?” he moaned.

 

               They were home and they were together. That was a wonderful thing, certainly. The night she had come to him at the Tansy Patch he hadn’t hesitated for a moment. They’d made their way home under a beautiful moon and a sky decked with stars like Broadway on a Friday night. He’d stopped to kiss her at every turn in the road, under every tree, and several times in between. The few moments that it took him to pull the mattress from their spare bed into the studio and for her to find the sheets was the only time that they weren’t touching. And then…

               It was like exhaling after holding your breath under water and then feeling perfect, life-giving oxygen in your lungs again and racing through your veins to make you alive in every cell. Emily was his life-blood, he had known that forever, and finally being with her again was more than relief and more than joy. He had thought that their reunion in New York was marvelous, but this was something else, something far more powerful. He could touch her with a tenderness and a knowledge of their history together in this place, unlike any other. This was their home together, it always had been, and always would be.

               Luckily for both of them, Aunt Katie rose early and discovered that Teddy was gone. She had more than an inkling where, and so when she saw Fred Hamilton passing by in his truck to go up the hill and start work for the day, she hailed him to come and see to a leaky faucet that had been troubling her. While he did that, she called up to Cashlin and woke them both up, reminding them that the studio had more windows than they might have remembered.

 

               He threw on a shirt over his jeans and stepped into the kitchen, scrubbing his hands over his eyes and yawning. He settled his arms around her and rested his head on her hair and shut his eyes, “Doesn’t he take days off?” This was the fifth morning in a row that they had been awakened by the industrious Fred and his crew, although he did now usually come to the front door, rather than the kitchen door, given that he knew they were sleeping at the back of the house.

               Emily smiled and removed his toast from the toaster, “Do you want him to take a day off?”

               “No,” Teddy sighed, “I want him to finish the bloody job so that we can sleep in a bed in a room with a door.” He hugged her and turned her in his arms, kissing her thoroughly. Then he released her and picked up a mug of coffee, “I might just have to be Frederick Kent today. This has gone on long enough!”

               Emily finished preparing his meal. He only wanted one thing for breakfast, had for the last five days – toast, bacon, and marmalade. She set the plate in front of him and kissed his cheek, then trailed her fingertips across the stubble that covered it, “Well, if you’re going to do that, you might want to shave first.”

               He swallowed a spoonful of marmalade and looked up at her suggestively, “You didn’t want me to do that last night.” He watched her blush and smiled at her, then pulled her onto his lap, “Can’t have your cake and eat it too, hmm?” He offered her a bite of toast and then rolled his eyes when he heard the voice of doom from upstairs.

               “Missus Kent? Are you free for a moment?”

               “Go,” Teddy groaned. “Go and find out what he wants this time and then tell him I need to talk to him.” He let his hand trail over her hip as she stood up and went to see what the contractor wanted. He turned to his breakfast, scratching his chin, considering his options. His face was itchy and he wasn’t used to having any facial hair at all, but Emily had rather liked it when he kissed her. Five days growth was fairly grim, though.   He would either have to shave it off or let it keep growing for another two until he could trim it into something reasonable. He’d only done that a couple of times when he was travelling on assignments in the back country and when he was in the army. Water and soap had been scarce, and the black flies seemed to leave you alone if you kept your face covered.

               Living here was a bit like camping in the woods, to tell the honest truth, at least in comparison to what they were used to at home. Sure they had electricity again, after a three day hiatus from that because everything had to be rewired. That had been nice, actually. He hadn’t sat with Emily in front of only firelight in decades and he loved it. They had running water here in the kitchen, but nowhere else. The bathroom was not functional, so they made due with the outhouse and the pitcher and basin and washtub here in the kitchen. It wasn’t much different than it had been when they were growing up, if you really thought about it. It hadn’t seemed like any kind of hardship then, but being used to each having their own bathroom, it was a little bit rustic. He knew that they were making some changes upstairs, but Emily hadn’t let him go up to see. This was entirely her project. That was fine with Teddy; it was her house after all. He just wanted it to be finished so that they could finally be alone.

               When he had told her that he was going to have to be ‘Frederick Kent’ he knew that she understood what he meant. When they were here, they tried not to make mention of their life in New York at all. It had nothing at all to do with their recent difficulties. They had found that it really bothered people when they knew exactly who they were and what their life was like. However, there came a point when Teddy really didn’t care and just wanted the job to get done. If that meant that he had to throw money at it, he would.

 

               “So, we’re almost done in here, Missus Kent,” Fred said proudly, showing her the completed bathroom with a flourish of his hand. “We did the tile like you said, with all of those really big pieces.” To him, it was quite odd, but when he had ordered it, the stone company told him that it was the newest thing. They were very large slabs of slate, in a grey and gold color that made the room both bright and warm. The bathtub was huge! Fred couldn’t imagine what anyone would need with a tub that large, but that was what Missus Kent ordered, so he put it in. She wanted a separate shower, which he thought was the strangest thing ever. Why would you not want to put the two together? There were also two sinks. Now, he had heard of that, but ever seen it or done it. He did suppose that when their kids came home they might need that. All in all, it had been a bit of an adventure and he had learned a lot.

               Emily nodded and walked into the bathroom, looking up at the skylight that they had just finished installing the day before yesterday. It was all open and airy, but not cold, as porcelain would have been. She looked at Fred, “It’s lovely, Fred. Thank you.” She trailed her hand over the wall and felt the smooth plaster with her hand, “You need to paint?” She wanted it white with a hint of grey in it. Her husband’s art supplies included interesting color charts. They were tiny scraps of paper with all different shades on them. Thirty-eight shades of white, to be exact. She had studied them and put one white after another next to a piece of tile, finally deciding on something that picked up on the whiter quartz bits in the tile. Although she didn’t know nearly as much about matching colors as he did, she knew what he liked – less was always more.

               He agreed with her, “Yes. We have to do that all over up here, and finish the floors too. The hardwood all really should be stripped and sanded and then refinished, if you want to do it properly.

               Emily cocked her head to the side, “How do you sand it?”

               Fred blinked, “Well, we strip off the wax and such first and then take the sander and…” he saw her shake her head in refusal.

               “No. You strip it, I’ll sand it. I want it done in a particular pattern.” She looked into the girls’ bedroom and nodded. Everything in there had been kept as close to original as they could, with a new, larger window being the only concession to renovation. She planned to put that back as it had been.

               “Pattern? What on earth are you talking about?” He had heard about new types of tile, but never about sanding in a pattern.

               She shrugged, “Family tradition. Murrays only sand their floors in the herringbone pattern. It won’t take me long, just a few hours. Then you can finish it with sealant.” Although her Aunt Elizabeth always thought that the old ways were best, Emily knew that there were some inventions that really saved time and were worth it. Finishing hardwood with varnish was one of them. She stepped into the spare bedroom, where the carpenter was putting the finishing touches on the wall of built-in shelves that she wanted, to hold all of the boys things and some of their family photographs. The window here was new as well, and a little bit bigger. Once this room was finished, they could sleep in here until their bedroom was completed. That was the largest and most complicated part of the whole project. Not only was that where the roof had suffered the most, it was also the space that she wanted to make sure was perfect. If the first renovation had lasted fifty years, this one would last until the end of their lives.

               All of the small changes inside had meant big changes on the outside and although they were nearly done in here, she knew that they had only just begun the complete residing of the whole house. That, and it would take several days for whatever finish was to be applied to the floor to dry.

               Fred was talking about timelines and Emily shook her head, “You need to go and talk to my husband. He wants to change the timing just a bit.”

 

               “You want it done when?” Fred blinked at the man in front of him. He had barely spoken to Mister Kent, other than on the first day. He had been away or something, he guessed. Fred’s wife had said something over dinner about the Kents not getting along, but Fred certainly didn’t think that was the case. They certainly looked like they were getting along and acted like it too.

               “A week from today,” Teddy said succinctly. “We need our house back.” He sat down in one of the chairs beside the fireplace in the living room and motioned to Fred to take a seat on the couch. “Now, I know that will mean hiring more people and speeding things up a bit. That doesn’t concern me. I just need you to do it.”

               Fred stammered in disbelief, “But sir, I already have half of my crew here now!”

               Teddy shrugged, “Then bring in the other half. Get it done.”

               “I would have to pull them off all of my other jobs. That would cost a fortune!” Missus Kent had been absolutely marvelous about paying for things. Whenever he told her that he needed to pay a bill, she paid it. When he asked for money for the crew’s work so far, she had given it to him to the penny, without a second thought. It was her that was paying the bills, and he knew she was a really famous writer. She obviously could afford to do this. He had no idea if she knew what her husband was asking, though. “Maybe I should talk to Missus Kent about this?” he hazarded to ask.

               Teddy rolled his eyes. So much for Frederick Kent! It was E.B. Starr who was the force to be reckoned with here! “Emily! Come in here, please?” He waited until she came to the doorway, her hair held back with a kerchief and her Mother Hubbard a dusty red-brown from the sand she was working with. She was showing one of the crew members what she meant by sanding on the kitchen floor. He thought she looked beautiful. “Emily, tell him we want this over and done with.”

               “Oh,” Emily nodded, “yes, Fred, please? If you can get it done as quickly as possible, that would be great.”

               “But Missus Kent, if I call in the whole crew it will be very expensive. It’s only another two or three weeks if we keep up as we have been,” he said hopefully.

               Emily shook her head, “That’s too long. We’ll pay whatever, just get it done.”

 


	17. "Tombstone"

_“Look at all the plans I made_

_Falling down like scraps of paper_

_I will leave them where they lie to remind me_

_From the past a rumour comes_

_Don't let it keep draggin' you down_

_Throw the memory in an open fire_

_You'll be free.”_

  * _Crowded House – “Tombstone”_




               They were walking along one of the smaller paths that led down toward New Moon. Emily’s hand was linked with his, her long, slender fingers cool and absolutely comfortable to remain curled in and about his own. He brought her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it. “You know, we could go on a vacation?” He was referring to the absolute chaos that was their house now. He had thought it loud and annoying before he ordered the acceleration of the job. Now it was almost unlivable. There were people there from dawn until after dark and none of what they did involved quiet contemplation. Two days of that was enough to make him want to run for the hills. That, and they were moving into the downstairs now as well, to paint, redo plumbing and electrical, and generally give the whole place an update to match what they were doing upstairs.

               “A vacation from a vacation?” Emily smiled. “Where would we go?” Actually, she had been thinking the same thing herself. She desperately needed a few hours of work time and she knew he did as well. That was simply impossible as things were. She also knew that Fred wanted to replace the windows in the studio very shortly; they had arrived that morning. That would mean that they would be sleeping in the living room, where there were little more than narrow paths between boxes and cartons of all of the belongings that had been moved from elsewhere. The couch was free, but however close they might be, they would not both fit there. She had to draw the line somewhere, and sleeping in the kitchen was it. Not to mention the fact that the tradesmen would be spending a great deal of time in there as well.

               Teddy shrugged and steered her away from the house proper and up another hill path. He had no desire to talk to Bea or Paul right now, nor Andrew, if he should be lurking about. “Maybe we can find a cottage or something. It’s the end of the season and I would think that people are headed back to wherever. There should be something available. Do you want me to look into it?”

               Emily took a deep breath and then nodded, “Yes, why don’t you. I know it isn’t going to get any quieter until it is all done.” She looked up ahead and saw the fork that led to the overlook above the water or the graveyard. Teddy didn’t seem to have any objective on this particular ramble, but she wasn’t sure if he would be ready. When they reached it, he stopped and sat down on the large boulder that delineated the path. She slid to stand between his knees and took both of his hands in hers.

               He took a deep breath, “I don’t know if I can do it yet.” He glanced toward the fork on his left, but knew that she understood what he was talking about. “I’ve been thinking about it, but I just don’t know if I can deal with it.” He looked at their hands and smoothed his thumb over her rings. She had been wearing all five of them ever since he came home. He was glad of that, somehow. It was almost like their children were there with them. “I wish we could have brought Frank home.”

               Emily nodded, silently. She agreed with him, entirely, but that was impossible. Frank had been one of the pilots from the aircraft carrier _USS Enterprise,_ sent to the harbor shortly after the attack began. He and six of his comrades had been shot down by enemy fire. Nothing had been recovered from Frank’s plane. She let the tears come at the thought of that. They had been to Hawaii as soon as the war ended, hoping to bring their boy home, but there was nothing they could do. The U.S. government was working on a recovery plan and on using sonar to find all of the pieces of the wreckage, but it wasn’t a top priority, not with all of the problems with Russia and now Korea looming over them.

               Teddy looked up at his wife and saw that she was feeling this as deeply as he was. It hadn’t taken him long to realize that the grief and guilt he felt was not his alone. Although it was hard, he could share it with his wife and that made it, if not bearable, at least something that he knew they could withstand together. “Do you want to go up?”

               Emily shrugged, “I went a couple of weeks ago. I’d like you to see the stone, but only if you think you’re ready.” She smoothed his hair away from his face, gently. He hadn’t shaved, although he had trimmed his beard neatly. She thought it looked rather nice, actually. His hair did need cutting, badly. She would have to attempt it in the kitchen when they got home. All of this was a passing moment of thought as her fingers brushed his cheek and came to rest on his lips for a brief second.

               He kissed the tips of her fingers, lightly, “The stone?” Instead of moving, he pulled her to sit on his right knee so that he could hold her close to him. He needed that. He needed to know that she was beside him in this.

               Emily wrapped her arms around him and let her head rest on his shoulder, “I put up a stone for both of the boys when I came here the summer after, when Cousin Jimmy died, you know?” Teddy acknowledged that by squeezing her shoulders.

               “I should have come with you, I know that. I am so sorry,” he held her tightly for a moment and kissed her temple, letting his lips stay there.

               She leaned into the embrace and cleared her throat, “You couldn’t. I knew that then. There was no way that you could have dealt with it. It was better that you stayed home and looked after Laura.” She remembered that trip so vividly. Even though it was July, it was freezing cold and rainy when she got here. The call had come right after their Independence Day celebration at Willomere. Regardless of the war, or maybe in spite of it, their party had been epic. It was sort of like a way to blow off steam after a particularly angry winter. The house was still full of people and there were dances and dinners every night. Katie had called in the middle of one to tell her that the last of her New Moon guardians had passed away.

 

               Jimmy died as he would have wanted to: in his garden on a beautiful summer day. Bea found him slumped over next to the well that had taken so much from him in childhood. In the end, he had found peace beside it. They said a heart attack was likely, but at ninety-seven, it was just time. There were no relatives left from his side of the family, so it was left to the New Moon folk, with whom he had lived for most of his life, to look after him.

               Emily remembered setting the phone down, putting her earring back on, and then walking up the stairs to their room to pack and leave. Teddy noticed that she had been missing from his side at dinner for far too long and ran into her in the foyer of the house, carrying a suitcase and still wearing a glittering grey ball gown. She had made no plans and wasn’t exactly sure how she was going to get home. All she knew was that she had to go. Luckily, he had shepherded her back upstairs, helped her put on suitable travelling clothes, and had Richard organize her a ticket and a car to the train station. Her husband had elected to stay behind and deal with the guests and their youngest daughter.

               When she arrived, everything was in chaos – or at least it seemed that way to her. No one had yet organized the wake, there was next to nothing in the pantry to feed people who came to pay their respects, the house was scandalously cluttered, and Bea didn’t seem to realize that this was a Murray funeral. She suggested that they serve a lunch outside! Emily had made sure that didn’t happen and that her beloved cousin and constant supporter was laid to rest with all of the respect and solemnity that he deserved. Then she cleaned house. Literally. She sat her niece and cousin down and gave them a Murray lecture of the highest order, then she watched as they scrubbed New Moon from top to bottom, removed inappropriate furnishings, and took care of repairs that should have been done years ago. She stopped just short of telling them that she would not let them stay there if they didn’t take better care of it. She didn’t have to say it, they were smart enough to know.

               She hadn’t stayed at Cashlin, but instead in her old room at the farmhouse. It was the only one that had not been redecorated by one of Bea and Paul’s children. James Murray did not have a lot, but there was a small trust fund that Archibald Murray had set up for him. He left that to Emily, along with something that she would cherish until the day she died. It was a small piece of paper with an address on it. The lawyer had given it to her in a sealed envelope with Cousin Jimmy’s signature across the back. No one had any idea what it was for and thought it was just another of Jimmy’s odd quirks. The address was in Halifax and Emily was loath to take the time to travel that far away, but knowing Cousin Jimmy as well as she did, she decided that he would not have left this to her specifically if it weren’t important. When she got out of the cab, she knew, immediately.

               The tiny bell on the shop door made a crystalline ringing sound. At the front counter, an elderly lady was knitting socks and smiled at her when she entered, “Hello, dearie! What can I do for ye?” Her Scottish accent was thick and as musical as her doorbell.

               Emily smiled in return, “Do you carry this type of book?” She took one of her journals, her beloved Jimmy books, from her purse and set it on the counter. She had never known where he bought them. She had never asked for one in her life, they had always appeared for her just when she needed them. Even when she was in New York, he sent them twice a month. When she had been in France, he sent them regularly as well. She seldom had more than one extra on hand, but was never left without.

               The woman cocked her head to the side and sighed, “Ye’ll be Miss Emily, then?” She shook her head when Emily nodded, “Ah, tis a shame to lose him, aye?”

               Emily nodded again and gulped back the tears, “It is. He left me your address. I wasn’t sure what it was about, but then I realized…” she stopped speaking when the tiny woman hopped off her stool and trotted back toward the storage area at the rear of the store. Emily made to follow her, but she was already coming back, a small carton in hand.

               She placed it on the counter and cut the string with a tiny pocket knife, then opened it. She held out a brand new book toward Emily, “Here you go. There’s more where this came from, trust me.” When Emily reached out to take the box she held it back, “Oh no! You don’t need them all. He always said that you only needed one at a time, and that’s what ye’ll get. James was very specific about it. He was a dear man,” she shook her head and then looked up at Emily, “and he loved ye so!”

               Emily pursed her lips to keep the tears from falling, “You knew him, then?” It was obvious that she did.

               “Aye! Of course I knew him! Sure and he was the first boy to ever kiss me!” She touched her cheek gently and then smiled, “Och, but I was nine at the time and he was eight. Twasn’t yesterday and I’ve buried my husband and three children since. I’ve eleven grands and twenty-six greats though!” She looked at Emily proudly. “This was my husband’s shop and now my son runs it with his son. Even if I go, ye’ll still have yer books. James told me to have them delivered to ye and that I will do. Only that I do need ye to tell me where now?”

               Emily nodded and smiled at the woman, “Of course. You have my address in New York, I take it?” When the shopkeeper acknowledged that, she took a deep breath, “You can send them there, at least until something changes.”

               The elderly woman looked at her critically, “Ye’re tired, lass. Too tired to write well, and likely too sad in yer heart.” She covered Emily’s hand, “Honor those ye lost, but don’t die with them. Trust me, I know.”

               Her name was Evelyn MacGregor and she had lived in Halifax for eighty years, moving there with her husband at nineteen to start a stationary business. She had been from the other side of Blair Water, where Cousin Jimmy’s parents had lived, and they had attended school together until he was hurt. When Emily came to New Moon and he found out she wanted to write, he was determined that she have something to write in. When he finally found his friend Evelyn, he asked that she send him a writing book. After about eight years, the company stopped making them, and Evelyn had helped him find all of the remaining copies. When those ran out, she found a printer who would make the exact same book for him and had them run off in lots of a hundred. Emily found out that she was on her fourth of those. The next ten lots were already paid for.

               She left Halifax feeling better about both herself and about losing her last connection to her mother’s family. He had always provided for her, and he always would. There was something comforting about that, to Emily. Family. What had Cousin Jimmy once said? “No one is alone, who has a thousand relations.”

Once her childhood home was put into good order and her cousin’s affairs settled, she had ordered and seen to the placement of their sons’ new gravestone.

               She remembered standing in the rain, all alone, as the men from the monument company hauled it up the hill on a wagon; the gates of the small family plot were too small for any type of motorized vehicle to enter. She watched from beside Jimmy’s newly filled grave as they removed the tiny, flat stone that marked the resting place of their first son. That she would later carry up to the garden at Cashlin and place with care in the sunniest section. When the workmen were gone and the new stone in place, she said her prayers and said goodbye. Then she went home to Willomere, and found herself more alone than ever.

 

               Teddy shook his head, “Maybe it would have been hard for me, but that doesn’t mean that I should have let you do it alone. It wasn’t fair. I see that now. I know I put you through so much, but I honestly didn’t see it then.” He looked away and hugged her more tightly to his chest, “All I knew was what I felt or couldn’t feel. It was awful for me, but I never realized how hard it was on you. I couldn’t pull myself far enough out of it to see that. Please forgive me?”

               Emily nodded, and let her hand rest over his heart, “I knew you were hurting. I was too. It was hard to do it alone, but I had to.”

               After their night of blissful reunion little over a week ago, they had spent all the next day talking. There were tears from both of them and more than a little bit of anger on Emily’s part about what had happened, but they promised one another that the words would never again go unsaid between them. They would never hold back or keep things from one another. That had nearly destroyed their entire lives. They had tried to do this in the past, but had never been challenged so much. Now it was what they had to do to keep their marriage together; they both knew this.

Since then, Emily found that Teddy would often blurt things out at the strangest moments. He had looked up, over dinner one night and said that he was actually very upset with Robin about the way she was raising, or not raising, her four children. That was a revelation to Emily, and several hours of conversation had ensued about the whys and wherefores of the whole situation. He normally sided with his daughter on everything – she was Daddy’s girl, and he was her eternal champion. He didn’t want to change that, he just wanted to let Emily know how he felt. That was only the first of many things that he had revealed about how he felt about some of the most private of their family matters.

               In their most intimate moments, things had changed also. He had never wanted her to be passive or not tell him what she liked or didn’t like, but she found that he was more insistent that she voice her emotions in those situations. He wanted to hear her say the words at times when she felt awkward doing so. He wanted her to tell him what she wanted and needed, instead of trying to guess it based on their many years together. In this way, they were both going through the same growing pains as they learned how to talk to one another in a completely different way.

               Teddy took a deep breath and nodded, making the decision, “Take me up. If our boys have a gravestone that I have never seen, then I need to see it. They deserve that from their father.”              

               Emily nodded and took his hand, leading him up the path, slowly. After the day of decision here, she had come up once more to plant flowers on all of her relatives’ graves. There were no more weeds, and each stone had been cleaned and decorated with a pot of geraniums. It was nothing fancy, just respect. She was pleased to see that it looked very nice from the gate.

               Teddy stopped and looked in, trying to muster the courage to move forward. The stones were all different shapes and sizes. The largest was Archibald Murray’s family stone. Beneath it were his wives and himself. It had weathered well and stood guard over all of the others, as the man himself once had. He saw the newer, dark granite in the place where he had buried their son nearly thirty-one years ago. The breath he let out was ragged with emotion. He wiped his hand across his eyes and then opened the gate.

               Emily walked slightly behind him, letting him do it on his own. He stood at the foot of the stone and stared at it for many long, agonizing moments. She didn’t want to say anything to him but knew she couldn’t leave. She went about dead-heading the decorative plants and pulling up the odd dandelion that had missed her last pruning. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched her husband. His lips were moving, silently, and the tracks of tears on his cheeks were easily visible. As much as she didn’t want to, she knew she had to let him let it out. This was better for him than all of the therapy in the world.

               When he spoke, his voice was like sandpaper, “Did you write that?” He rasped the words and then cleared his throat, looking over at Emily, where she sat next to Mary Shipley’s stone with her journal on her lap.

               She looked up and shook her head, “No, it’s an Inuit proverb. I found it in a book that I was reading about astronomy. I always thought I would put it on my own stone, but it seems to fit here, I think?” She looked over at him in question.

               He nodded, “It does.” He stepped forward and bent down to crouch in front of it.

               Emily set her book aside and went to join him. She smoothed her hand across his shoulders in comfort.

               He put his arm around her and kissed her cheek, absently, “It’s right that they should be together.” He lifted his hand gently and smoothed his fingers over the last two words. “Our boys,” he said.

               Emily nodded and slid her fingers under his, so both of them could touch the stone together, “Our boys.” Her words echoed his and validated them at the same time. When her husband started to cry, she knew that he had finally let it go.

 

 

 

 

_  
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	18. "Underneath Your Clothes"

_“Underneath Your Clothes_

_There's an endless story_

_There's the man I chose_

_There's my territory_

_And all the things I deserve_

_For being such a good girl honey.”_

  * _Shakira – “Underneath Your Clothes”_




               Teddy found a small cottage that was for rent on the North Shore. It was close to the water and far from everything else. The elderly lady that he went to visit to pay the rent for their stay was a lovely German woman who had plied him with wonderful potato pancakes and a rich chocolate cake that he knew Emily would love to make. He left with the recipe and the key to their escape from Fred and his industrious hammer.

               There was something to be said for quiet. Emily stood on the porch and looked out over the inlet and the rocky shore with utter relief. When they arrived late last night, she hadn’t bothered to investigate their surroundings other than to put their groceries away and sink into Teddy’s arms in what proved to be a ridiculously soft and fluffy featherbed. They ended up practically on top of one another all night. That wasn’t necessarily the fault of the mattress…

               Teddy was gone from their bed already when she woke this morning, if indeed it was still morning! Coffee was made in the kitchen and a note beside the pot told her that he was out on the beach soaking up the sun. She grinned at his version of sunbathing – sketching the sea while leaning up against a large piece of driftwood. She filled another mug with coffee for him and headed down to the shore, picking her way barefoot among the rocks, clad only in one of his cast-off shirts. She knew that he likely did not hear her approach, so she came around in front of him and stood in his light to announce her presence.

               He looked up in annoyance and then grinned, “No worms for you! It’s almost noon.” He took the offered cup and motioned for her to sit beside him.

               Emily grabbed the light jacket he had already taken off and spread it on the ground beneath her to sit, “This is the first morning in ages that I have been able to stay in bed. Incredibly decadent and necessary.” She sipped at her coffee and nodded in satisfaction; Teddy made an excellent pot of coffee.

               He slid his arm around her and kissed her good morning, taking a sip from the cup that she offered him when the embrace ended, “You deserved a day of rest, that’s why I didn’t want to bother you. However, you really should get up for sunrise tomorrow, it was glamorous.” He leaned back and pulled her to rest with him. “What do you want to do today?”

               Emily laughed out loud, “Absolutely nothing!” She let her head rest on his shoulder and spread her hand out over his heart, “I don’t even want to get dressed!”

               Teddy turned her in his arms, “Then we will not be doing nothing.”

 

               Three days into their vacation, and Emily was firmly entranced with the idea of retiring to the middle of nowhere. They woke early, watched the sun come up together and then went back to bed until they decided it was time to get up. Teddy usually rose first to use the light to his advantage and let her sleep. Then she would rise and make a brunch type of meal that they could take on a ramble down the beach or up to the small village that was about an hour’s walk away. On their way home, she would usually stop somewhere to write for a while, and Teddy would head home and start dinner for them both. When she returned, she would take over and he would pour wine and they would talk as she cooked. Dinner was consumed on the tiny porch at a makeshift table that Teddy put together with a large cable spool and a sheet of plywood. That and two of the kitchen chairs served them quite well. They watched the sun go down on the beach and then came in to a fire and quiet time on the couch. Teddy usually fell asleep while she worked and when she was finished she would wake him and urge him to their bed. Sleep didn’t always come immediately, but usually after they came together, connecting themselves to each other and their wonderful day. Then it started all over again.

               Emily was standing in the tiny market, debating whether or not they needed carrots when she heard her name.

               “Emily? Is that really you?”

               She turned to face the speaker and broke out in a broad smile, instantly. “Owen!” She hugged her friend and fellow writer tightly. “What on earth are you doing here?”

               “What am _I_ doing here? I have a house not ten minutes from here. What are _you_ doing here would be more the question?” Owen Ford set down his market basket and leaned against the counter in the small store. Seeing his friend was an absolute delight, however unexpected.

               Emily set down her basket as well, “Teddy and I are on a bit of a vacation from a vacation. We came home for a bit and ended up with a major renovation project on our house. We had to get away from the hammering, so we rented a little cottage up the shore.” The village they were in was called Wind Harbor. She mentally tried to picture where that was in relationship to where she knew Ken and Rilla usually came for the summer. Four Winds, that was the name of it. She looked up at Owen, “We’re not far from you or the Blythe’s I would wager to guess?”

               He nodded, “Not far at all. In fact, Anne and Gil are up at the hall. There’s a craft sale or something. Care to join me?”

               Emily nodded and set the carrots down, “Of course.” She remembered that Ken’s mother had passed away about two years ago and offered her condolences.

               Owen accepted them, but shook his head, “I love coming back here, but it hurts at the same time. This was Leslie’s home. This was where we met for the first time. I feel close to her here, but miss her more as well; it’s quite strange.” He didn’t think Emily would understand this, yet. She might at some point, but it was a fate he wouldn’t wish on anyone.

               She nodded in understanding, “Home has a lot of memories, some bad, but mostly good. The best part is that it wraps you up in the old so you can face the new.” She smiled at her friend.

               “A woman after my own heart! You always were.” He took her arm and they walked companionably up the road to the town hall. He shared the latest news from his son and daughter-in-law in Montreal and chattered about his current fiction project as they walked.

               Emily saw Anne’s brilliant hair amid the other patrons at the jumble sale before anything else. She heard her laughter next and couldn’t help but smile. Anne had a laugh that made you want to laugh too; infectious perhaps, more likely engaging. That would be a good descriptor. Her smile was likewise entrancing when she saw them.

               “Emily! Lands sakes!” she hurried forward and embraced her tightly. “Gil! Look who’s here?” She didn’t bother to look over her shoulder for her husband. She knew exactly where he was. Although she had persuaded him to retire, there were some of his patients who simply believed that he was the only doctor in the world. One such was the widow Mrs. Baker. Her only real ailment was that she talked too much and that Gilbert was always willing to listen. She had seen the bonneted lady stop her husband at the table that contained tools. That wasn’t necessarily a bad thing; they did not need any more screwdrivers. “How are you?”

               “I’m well. You look amazing, retirement agrees with you, I take it?” Anne did look very well. Although there was some grey in her hair, it wasn’t much and she was still as slender and fit as a fiddle.

               Anne chuckled, “Always the poet, Ms. Starr. Every morning I wake up and wish I hadn’t been stupid enough to fall off that roof when I was a girl. Ankle aches like crazy when it’s damp. But otherwise, you are spot on. The only trouble is that by the time you retire you are almost too tired to enjoy it!” She smiled at her husband when he joined her, “Widow Baker is well, I take it?”

               Gilbert shrugged, “She’ll live longer than I will. How are you Emily?” He reached out and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. He saw her husband approaching and nodded, “I take it that the two of you are on a bit of a vacation from the Big Apple?”

               Teddy slipped his arm around his wife and offered his hand to their friends, “Definitely. I had no idea you lived around here.” Actually, he hadn’t really thought about anything other than finding a place to be alone with Emily. He took the basket from his wife so that she wouldn’t have to carry it.

               They spoke for a while about the Island and what was old and new, then Anne offered them dinner that evening. Although they had vowed to spend their time together it was nice to catch up with friends that you enjoyed being with. They arrived at Ingleside at the appointed time with a bottle of wine and a batch of Emily’s shortbread in hand.

               Jem and his wife Faith lived at Ingleside with their parents, so it was a reunion of the highest order. Owen joined them, adding a bottle of excellent brandy to the offerings and a copy of his latest fiction manuscript for Emily’s opinion. The grandchildren who ran in and about the house were teenagers and had no desire to consort with their parents’ and grandparents’ friends, so hellos and goodbyes were simultaneous as they rushed off to this and that with their own crew. The last week of August was infamous for ‘madcapery’, as Anne deemed it, appropriately.

               When dinner was over and Faith was taking care of cleaning up (Anne had cooked, so it was only fair), Emily and Anne took a walk together, leaving the men to reminisce on the porch. Anne led the way, down a small trail to a larger farm cart road between two fields and then towards the sea. Emily had no idea what their destination was, and her host was relatively silent for a change.

               Finally, they arrived at a small house, sheltered by Lombardy poplars. Anne let herself in the gate and then the garden. She meandered about, weeding and deadheading as she went – once a gardener, always a gardener. Finally, she stopped in the corner of the plot, where there was a view of the ocean between two well-groomed cedar trees.

               She cleared her throat, “Gilbert and I used to live here. Owen and Leslie… well just Owen… does now.” She settled herself down on the small stone bench, suddenly albeit briefly, looking all of her eighty-one years. “Rilla told me what happened to your son. I wish there was something that could be done.”

               Emily looked at the small stone that Anne sat beside. She saw the other woman’s hand stray to rest on top of it gently, a mother’s hand. Emily knelt and read the faded letters. One was expected, the other was not. “You lost two children?” she whispered.

               Anne nodded, “Joy was our first. I thought I would die then. They had to pull her out of my arms.” She let her tears fall onto her lap and watched as they made dark splotches on the skirt of her dark green dress. She looked up and shook her head, “But I didn’t get to hold Walter at the end. He had to die alone. He isn’t even here, and I think that’s worse.”

               Emily took a deep breath, “How do you just…” She had never met anyone else who had gone through the same thing, and certainly no one who was willing to talk about it so frankly.

               “You don’t,” Anne said, matter-of-factly. “They tell you that life goes on, but it doesn’t, at least not in the same way. It will never be better. You will never believe in anything the way you did before.” She looked over at Emily, “All I can offer you is friendship. I can’t fix it. No one can.”

               Emily sank down onto the ground and dropped her face into her hands to cry. No matter how many times she tried to deal with this, it was never over. That was so maddening! “Jed was three months old,” her voice cracked on the words. She never told anyone about him. Most people, outside of their family, had no idea that they had lost another child. “He got the influenza.” She looked up and clarified, “You remember, from 1919?”

               Anne nodded in understanding. She had not heard about this from Rilla, but now she could better understand the grief that Emily was dealing with. She reached over and handed her a handkerchief.

               Emily took it, with thanks, “He was so little that he couldn’t fight it. I was sick too and…” She voiced the regret that she had always had, “I should have taken better care of him. I could have fed him more often. I could have kept him warmer at night and I didn’t!” She felt Anne’s hand on her shoulder and shuddered with the pain of it. “I wasn’t even there when they buried him. Teddy had to do that on his own. I should have been a better mother to him.”

               “You are a fine mother,” Anne said, softly. There was nothing she could really do except support Emily as she talked through it.

               “And it’s just like you said, I wasn’t there to hold Frank. I don’t… they don’t even know exactly where his plane crashed. We can’t even visit his grave.” She thought about the stone that stood in the Murray family plot and how similar it was to this one. She reached out and touched the white stone in front of her, gently. “Sometimes I feel like my life is over.”

               “It’s not,” Anne murmured. “It’s completely changed now, but it isn’t over. You have two lovely daughters, Emily. And grandchildren are a wonderful gift to the soul.” She knew exactly what the other woman was feeling. She still felt it herself.

               Emily watched as her Wind Woman danced with the tops of the poplar trees and flirted with the small birch on the lawn, teasing and laughing her way from the sea to the sky. If only she could fly like that, up and away above all of this that was so hard. “Frank loved to fly. He used to tell me that it was like you were leaving everything behind you when you went up in the air. His last letter talked about the sea and what it looked like from the sky. He saw blues and greens and porpoises as they played in the water. He could draw like Teddy.” She didn’t know why on earth she was telling Anne all of this, it was just bubbling over.

               Anne smiled, “Walter wrote so much better than I ever did. I thought about being a writer when I was a girl – dreamed of it, actually. But that wasn’t my purpose. I see that now, when I think back to how Walter was when he wrote, and the way you and Owen work. That was never the life I wanted, I just wanted someone to see my dreams come to life. Becoming a mother did that for me, in a different way.” She looked over at Emily, “You have a wonderful family and an incredible career. You can actually bring your words to life in print. That was something I never had. You could bring your sons back to you with words.”

               Emily looked up at Anne. Their eyes met for a second, and then Emily knew. She knew what she wanted to do. All of the research, all of the wading through papers looking for their past was not where their energy belonged at all. Yes, it was important that they acknowledge their parents, but it was their children, their future together that they needed to bring to life through their work. “Anne, I’m sorry. Will you excuse me? I need to get back to the cottage and do some work.”

               Anne smiled at her, “ _’Measure not the work until the day’s out and the labor’s done.’_ ” She touched Emily’s hand gently, “You’ll come back and visit again soon, won’t you?”

               Emily, lost in her thoughts and her plan, nodded and said something polite, then rushed off. She took the road, but only because that was the only way she knew. When she passed Ingleside, she forgot to stop in and tell Teddy where she was going. She had not brought a journal with her, curse her lack of foresight, so she had to write it in her mind until she could find a pen. When her flash came to her, she sometimes had moments like this, when she desperately needed to write something down or lose it. This was greater. Once before in her life she had felt this way. Only once.

               The cottage was like a beacon. She led herself in quickly as the light was fading and turned on a lamp. She grabbed her Jimmy book and favorite pen and sat down at her typewriter. She was actually faster at typing now than she was at writing longhand, so she chose that as the method for cataloguing her madness. The journal was merely to write notes to herself about what might come next. The first words came slowly, and then they began to pour out, from some wellspring within her that had been holding them back for years. She typed quickly, but was not haphazard about it. She thought each line through and set it in ink. Her plan solidified on the page at her right hand, even as her brain moved on to the next portion of detailed work. She slid her shoes off and tucked away a piece of hair that fell from the knot at the nape of her neck. She did not hear her husband come in an hour later, nor did she hear when he spoke to her.


	19. "The Book of My Life - 1"

_“Let me watch by the fire and remember my days_

_And it may be a trick of the firelight_

_But the flickering pages that trouble my sight_

_Is a book I'm afraid to write.”_

  * _Sting – “The Book of My Life” (Part 1)_




 

               “Emily?” he touched her shoulder and she lifted her left hand to his for a brief second, then moved it back to continue typing. She hurried through the last line and then ripped the page out of the typewriter, adding it to the growing pile at her left elbow. His eyes widened and then he stepped back. He had no part in what she was doing here and knew that she needed to finish it. Teddy stepped out of the circle of light and went to bed, alone for the first time in many days, but not unhappy. Emily was working and Emily was content. That was a good thing.

               When he woke the following morning, he heard what he thought was rain; incongruous to the bright sun that shone in over the quilt on their bed. He rolled over to find Emily and discovered that she wasn’t there. Not only that, she had not been to bed all night. The pattering sound stopped, briefly, and Teddy realized that it was not rain after all, but instead the sounds of her typing. He remembered that the staccato rap of keys on paper had lulled him to sleep last night as well. He sat up, bleary at the mere thought of working all night, and pulled on a pair of trousers. When he stepped out into the living room, he saw that she had not moved. She was still sitting in the dress she had worn to dinner last night, with her hair still in a knot. There was a cup of water on the table now, but other than that and the fact that the pile of completed pages was significantly larger, there was no difference from when he had left her last evening.

               “Emily? Are you alright?” he said the words quietly so that he wouldn’t distract or scare her. He moved closer to hear her answer.

               “Mmm…” she nodded and then picked up her pen and scribbled something on the open page of her Jimmy book.

               Although he couldn’t see what she was writing at all, he did see that the page was one of many, full of scribbles and notations, quotes and notes to herself on how to accomplish the task at hand. He didn’t even know what she was working on. But clearly, she was working and there was no use even trying to talk to her. He went about the business of waking up – coffee, shaving, and sketching – not necessarily in that order.

 

               Teddy woke when he felt her hand on his shoulder. He turned over and automatically pulled her into his arms. The breeze that blew in over their bed was chilly and he pulled the quilt around her to warm her up. It dawned on him vaguely, amid the chaos of sleep, that she was joining him for the first time in three days. He held her closer and smoothed his lips over her temple, “So glad you’re here.”

               Emily shuddered into the warmth of his body and let it wrap her up. She was too tired to think straight right now. Her fatigue had hit her mid-page about ten minutes ago and overwhelmed her. She shut off the light and came to bed, finally. It was not that she had been avoiding it, not at all. She hadn’t even thought about Teddy in concrete terms for the last 72 hours. He was all over every page that she wrote, but the reality of him was ephemeral at best; drifting on the outside of her sphere of light and print. She was not finished; nowhere near. She needed to rest to regroup before tackling the next section, though. She yawned, “I left something for you on the table.” His arms slid down her back and found a comfortable spot to rest for the moment and she leaned back into them and looked at him.

               He watched her for a second and then decided to reply, “Thank you. You’ve been working so hard. Too hard.” He kissed the indigo shadows under her eyes lightly, “I’ve missed you.” He had more than missed her. It was almost like the last few years had been, when they were together but not. He didn’t like that, even though he knew that she was not trying to avoid him.

               She let her fingertips trail across his jaw for a second, enjoying the sensation of his beard against the pads of her fingers. She was actually becoming quite attached to this new look he had decided upon. Emily shut her eyes and let herself feel everything else that he was doing. At first she thought she might drift off to sleep when he touched her, but there was very little chance of that.

 

               The sun woke her, full of light and warmth through the sheer curtains that fluttered gently in the breeze. The window itself was only open a crack, the wind cool and damp off the sea. Autumn was coming, you could feel that in the air and see it in the sea itself. Emily slid up in bed and watched the surf for a moment, her head pillowed on her knees. She had no idea what time it was and supposed that didn’t really matter so much. The imprint of her husband’s body on the mattress was cool, but she slid back down into it anyway and cuddled the quilt around her, much as his arms had lulled her into sleep last night. She found the spot where she fit into him and shut her eyes again.

               Teddy sat in what had become his place of a morning, resting his back against the driftwood, and settled into a hollow in the sand. His sketchbook lay, unopened, beside him. The pages on his lap rifled softly in the wind and he slid his hand over them to smooth them back down again. He found her note this morning, atop the pile of pages that were weighted down with a large beach stone.

_“My Dearest, It is late and I am tired. I want to go on tonight, but I find I cannot. The lure of sleep and your arms is too great – jealous goddess will have to give me back to you for at least a few hours. Oh, but I have missed you, love. You’ve not been absent from me, but there is much that cannot be satisfied by words alone – such is the joy of marriage. I dither… Please read this and tell me what you think? Would you be willing to help me with it? If it is too hard for you, please just tell me, I won’t be upset. My heart has written these lines, where my head may change some yet – bear with the work in progress. Wake me with kisses. All love, Em.”_

 

               Those words were written longhand, the rest were typed. He had read them – twice. Each page was more powerful than the last for him, like quicksand drawing him into the world of their shared past. What she had chosen to do was pure genius. He knew that she was working on a novel about the Great War and life on the home front. She had shared sections of it with him when they were in New York. It had been a bit hard to read at first, but once he got past the fact that it was a reenactment of one of the worst times in the history of society, he could read about the characters and their lives. It wasn’t complete though.

               The pages in his hand were.

Although she called it a work in progress it was anything but that. She began at the beginning. She wrote their story. She painted pictures with vowels and consonants as well, or better, than he might have with color and line. She started with their past and connected it to their future. The cover page said it all, “ _The Book of Our Life.”_

               Help her with it? Could he do anything worthy of what she had written? He looked out at the sea and the horizon beyond. There was a line in her work, _“He painted sea and sky as one – yesterday and tomorrow together. His vision blurred with love for both.”_ She had been speaking of Michael Gardiner in that section. Teddy opened his sketchbook and turned to a blank page. When he was a child he remembered looking at the painting above the fireplace and wanting to be able to draw like that. His mother had never told him about his grandfather’s love for art; she had rarely mentioned her family at all. He didn’t know how her mother died or where she was born. Aunt Katie might know that, but he wasn’t sure. That was something he needed to know. His hand made the first lines on the page with determination, and following that, they came easier to him. He smiled as he worked.


	20. "Longer"

_“Longer than ther've been fishes in the ocean_  
Higher than any bird ever flew  
Longer than there've been stars up in the heavens  
I've been in love with you

 _Stronger than any mountain cathedral_  
Truer than any tree ever grew  
Deeper than any forest primeval  
I am in love with you.”

_\- Dan Fogelberg – “Longer”_

Robin stared out the window as the train snaked through the forest.  The trees were trimmed back by some industrious forestry official, but they were only held at bay, not actually tamed.  Civilization had a slim hold here.  She smiled at the thought.  Sometimes progress was not always a good thing.  She looked sideways at her younger sister and shook her head in disbelief.  Laura was almost fourteen years younger than she was, but she had grown into a lovely young woman.  She was currently curled up with her head on Robin’s shoulder, making smothered snoring sounds as she slept.  Jet lag was no picnic and whatever they were in for on the Island was not going to be easy to deal with.  Getting sleep when you could was a good plan.

               A command performance of sorts.  Daddy had called her a week ago and told her that they wanted to see both her and Laura on the Island.  No children, just the two girls on their own.  He had paid for Laura’s ticket across the Atlantic and both of their train tickets from New York to the Island.  It was an order for their presence, if couched as a gentle parental request.  Robin had not spoken with her mother since her parents left New York.  That was odd, in itself, regardless of the situation.  It was never usually Daddy that organized these things.  Robin drew a deep breath to calm the anxiety that she felt.  Even though she thought that her parents had worked everything out, this was not normal.  Something was afoot.

               “Wake up, Lola,” she whispered to her sister gently.  “We’re home.”

 

               Robin was enveloped in her mother’s slim arms almost immediately upon disembarking from the train car.  Mum was waiting for them both on the platform and waved enthusiastically as soon as she saw them.  The train stop in Blair Water was a new one – progress might have its pitfalls, but this was not one of them.  It would only be a short drive over and then up the hill to Cashlin.  Robin could feel the pull of the ivory on her grandmother’s piano already.  Her mother’s hug ended with a gentle kiss on the cheek and then moved on to her sister.  Robin watched them with mildly veiled amazement.  If you didn’t look closely enough, they were virtually identical.  Mum was older, of course, but the way they stood, moved, and smiled was uncanny in its similarity.  Lola had Daddy’s eyes and ears and her hair was their father’s dark sable-brown rather than Mum’s black, but it was close enough that you had to know the difference to see it.

               “Oh, it’s so good to see you!”  Emily hugged both of the girls at the same time and smiled at them.  She let out a breath of relief to see both of their children.  Regardless of how old they might be, she was always a bit nervous when her children were traveling.  It made her relax to know that they were both safely home.  The ties of motherhood were strong, indeed!

               She took her younger daughter’s large suitcase from her and they began their walk down the platform.  Robin always carried her clothes in a small duffle bag that she slung effortlessly over one shoulder.  Her experience with traveling certainly showed in her ability to travel light.  Lola was describing her trip across the Atlantic, including detailed characterizations of her fellow travelers. 

               Robin took a deep breath, “Where is Daddy?”

               There was a brief moment of awkward silence, and Laura cleared her throat to break it, then spoke up, “What’s going on, Mum?”

               Emily pursed her lips slightly, “Yes, well…”  She looked at both of their daughters and nodded, choosing her words carefully, “Daddy is up at home making dinner for you both.  We wanted to talk to you together to explain everything.”

               Laura blinked and looked at her mother in astonishment, “Daddy?  MY Daddy?  He can’t cook!”  Something was definitely wrong.

               Robin interrupted, “He can so!  Remember that time we went to the cottage without mum?  We didn’t starve.”  She looked at her sister confusedly, “Of course, mum is better at it than he is.”  Then she looked up at their mother, “What is it that you need to explain?” 

Laura waited for her mother’s answer, nervously.  She basically knew that things between her parents were horrible.  That was not a surprise; it hadn’t been all that good for years.  Robin had this cock-eyed notion that their parents were madly in love, but Laura could not really see that.  Although they were together almost all of the time, they were definitely not affectionate towards one another, even in private.  Although Daddy was nice enough, Laura had never really figured out what drew her mother to him.  He was quiet and unassuming – that was fine, in itself, but he could also be brooding and non-communicative – that was not fine.  She did not want to acknowledge that sometimes Steven was like that.  She looked at her mother in question, her dark brows rising in a mirror image of her mother’s own uncompromising stare.

               Emily shook her head, “We will talk about it when we get home.”  Her voice was firm and meant to end the questioning.  Laura acquiesced immediately.  Robin did not.

               “Are you getting a divorce?” Robin let her bag fall to the platform and she put her hands on her hips, demanding immediate gratification.  This had gone on long enough!

               Emily, conscious of both the stares from passersby and her daughter’s rising blood pressure, put her hand on Robin’s shoulder, “Keep your voice down.  We will discuss this in private.”  She turned on her heel and walked away with both pieces of luggage in her hands and a set in her shoulders that her children recognized as unmitigated finality.  No one could argue with Mum at the best of times, let alone when she made up her mind that a discussion was not going to happen.

               Laura shot her sister a questioning look and Robin threw up her hands, “How the hell should I know?”  They followed meekly in their mother’s considerable wake.

               As she walked, Emily let her discomfort slip away.  Each step pushed back the anger at her daughter’s impropriety and she finally rolled her shoulders back to release the tension.  To be fair, they didn’t know.  No one did, besides Teddy and herself.  Even Aunt Katie wasn’t exactly sure where they were in the reconciliation process.  There hadn’t been time for that in the last few weeks.  But now that they were finally back home, and the rough draft of their manuscript was finished, they could breathe and think about the practical implications of their decision.  Emily turned slightly to her daughters, “Come on now, let’s head home.  We can talk on the way.”  She skirted the parking lot and headed through town toward the hill road.

               Laura hurried her step and caught up with her mother, “Here Mum, give me that.  It weighs a ton!”  She took her suitcase back from her mother and groaned slightly at the weight herself.  Her mother really was in remarkable shape to have even been able to pick it up.  She regretted the extra pair of shoes and Mac that she had thrown in while overnight at Willomere.  She didn’t think to regret the books.  “Have you read the new Hemingway, Mum?” she thought to make conversation.

               Emily looked at her daughter and nodded, “Finished it the night before last.  I might forgive him for being an arrogant chauvinist in real life if I didn’t read it in every line he writes.”  She looked over at Robin, “And you, my dear, how are the children?”

               Robin grimaced, “Like quicksilver.  They are a handful, but now that school is back in, at least they have something to do.”  She took her own bag from her mother, easily.  “I don’t suppose either of you have bothered to listen to the new recording of _Orpheus_ , have you?”  She grinned at the two women and was surprised when her mother actually nodded at her.  “Really?”

               Emily smiled, “I’m your mother.  I have a copy of everything you’ve ever done – aforementioned offspring not included.”  She reached over and hugged her daughter as they walked.  She knew that it was merely delaying the inevitable, and that both of the girls realized it.  She squeezed Robin tighter and kissed the top of her head a little bit harder than might have been necessary, then let her go.  “Your daddy and I are not getting a divorce, but there are going to be some changes.  We need to talk about it as a family.”  She swallowed and looked up the path at their home, just as it became visible.  Her heart slowed to normal and she smiled slowly, “Now, let’s see what your father has made for dinner, shall we?”

 

               Laura looked around her appreciatively, “This is really nice, Mum.”  She let her fingers trail over the smoothly plastered walls gently and then looked up at the skylight.  Her mother had impeccable taste when it came to decorating and fashion.  She tried not to think about how odd everything felt here, how different.  The house was completely changed.  With that she was impressed.  It had needed a renovation for a long time, but her parents seemed to cling to the way it had been since they moved in, seemed to use the familiar as an anchor or something.  What replaced the charming and oddly quixotic was somewhat austere – but then again that was Mum’s taste – and ultra modern, even if it didn’t look it on the outside.  The hardwood was still there, as was the paneling and the fireplaces and wood stove.  That was the same, but all of the furniture had been recovered, some moved, some bought new.  There were two new bathrooms, in addition to the enlarged one that she stood in now.  That was a blessing.

               What really struck her was her parents and how they seemed to be two completely different people.  Her father didn’t even look like her father.  As she ran her fingers across the smooth linen of the towels on the side of the bath, she thought about that.

               Teddy heard his eldest daughter’s laugh and wiped his hands on the towel, then headed toward the front door.  Thank goodness they were back!  The roast was fine, but he had the sneaking suspicion that he had done something irreparable to the gravy.  Emily could fix it, though.  He opened the door and felt it wash over him like a wave of warm air on a cool spring day.  His family.  Their family.  Emily walked slowly, speaking to their daughters and watching them closely.  He knew that look.  She was memorizing what had changed and what was the same so that she could later write it down.  He would do the same, only his would be tomorrow morning by the first dawn’s light in his studio.  He could sketch the lines and shadows that brought his dreams to life.  His wife looked up at him and smiled, slowly.  ‘Look at what we did!’  The glint of pride in her eyes was unmistakable.  He felt that way too.  He stepped down the four steps easily and met Robin as she hurled herself through the gate at him.

               “Daddy!” she hugged him ferociously.  Then she looked up and shook her head, “Who are you supposed to be?  Boss Tweed or Grizzly Adams?  Either way, lose the carpet, it doesn’t suit you.”  She squeezed him around the waist and then tossed her bag onto the front steps.  “Mum, these cardinal flowers are gorgeous!  I forgot we had them here.”  She moved on down the path.

               Emily looked over her shoulder at her husband and raised her eyebrows suggestively, then laughed when Teddy looked utterly dismayed.  The subject of his newly acquired facial hair was a frequent discussion over their fire.  Although he didn’t particularly care what it looked like, so long as Emily liked it, he realized that it might not suit him as much as he thought.  He turned to Laura and hugged her, more gently than he had Robin.  It was somehow baffling that she should be as tall as her mother.  Hadn’t she been a baby just… well, maybe not yesterday, but certainly only a few years ago.  “And what do you think?” he rubbed his chin and sought her opinion.  She might not be as vocal as her sister, but she was honest.

               Laura pursed her lips in consideration, “Well, it will keep you warm in the winter, I guess.  Why?”  She looked up at her father and saw that he was pondering it himself.

               “Dunno.  It just happened and your mum likes it, so…” he shrugged his shoulders.  “Perhaps we’ll vote on it, shall we?”  He took the heavy suitcase from her, effortlessly, and picked up Robin’s bag as well.  “Em, love, can you come and see what I’ve done wrong with the gravy?”

               Laura watched her mother turn at the request and saw something rather strange pass between her parents.  It wasn’t as though she had never seen them do it before, but this time it was like electricity in the air.  The unspoken conversation crackled like lightening between them.  Her father often used endearments when he referred to mum, but she never usually responded to them as anything other than a replacement for her name.  This was something different.  She watched her mother rise from the bed of late asters and pick her way back to the path, a few of the red-yellow blooms trailing effortlessly from one hand, while the other smoothed her hair away from her face as the wind pulled a few errant strands from the perfectly pinned knot at her neck.  She looked at daddy in a way that Laura had never seen before.

               When she made it back to the path, she joined them on the step and Laura saw her father’s free hand immediately go to the small of her mother’s back, letting his fingers trail over the smooth silk of her shirt before finding their resting place.  Weird…

               Inside, her mother quickly repaired to the kitchen to look after whatever culinary disaster her father was claiming and Laura and Robin were given the tour of the downstairs by their father.  It had never been a large home, and still wasn’t.  After visiting the studio, where the only renovation was a new electric heater in addition to the existing wood stove, and brand new windows, Teddy had excused himself upstairs with their luggage and left the girls to freshen up in the new powder room.

               Laura looked at Robin in the mirror as they washed their hands, “What on earth was that?”

               “What was what?” Robin squinted and then used the tip of the towel to wipe a smudge off her chin.

               “You mean you didn’t see it?”  Laura thought it was as plain as the nose on her face.

               Robin stepped out of the tiny room and shook her head, “Either there’s a mouse that I missed, or you are talking in circles.  Spill it, Lola!  See what?”  Robin stepped into the kitchen, where their mother was industriously stirring and scraping the roast pan with a wooden spoon.  “Hey mum!  That smells amazing!  Did Daddy really do this all on his own?”  She sat down at the kitchen table and took another appreciative sniff, then she looked at her sister, “See what?”

               Emily turned around, “He did indeed!  I was actually in Charlottetown all day.  I came in on the train before yours, that’s why I drew the lot to bring you home.  Daddy’s been working on this since before I left this morning.”  She smiled when he entered, “Rescue complete.  Crisis averted.”  She handed the spoon to her husband.  “I also added a bit more water to the potatoes, they were almost dry.  You need to use the larger pot for that many.”  She slid past him to the refrigerator, which was a newer model than had been there previously.  She pulled out a tray of snacks and looked at her daughters, “Let’s give your Daddy room to work and we’ll go and have a glass of wine before dinner, shall we?”

               Laura saw her mother’s hand trail across her father’s shoulder and his small smile in return.

              

               “It’s nice, Mum,” Robin was saying, as she curled up in one of the wing chairs next to the piano.  In a similar way to her mother, she let her long fingers reach out and gently stroke the old ivory.  Her grandmother’s Bluthner was one of her favorite reasons to come home, but it would wait.  She took the glass her mother offered and settled back.  “It needed an update, I think.  I like that you’ve kept so much of what was here before, though.  It wouldn’t be home without it.”  She took a sip of wine.

               Emily nodded and set the tray on the coffee table that had once belonged to Teddy’s grandfather.  She then poured a half glass of wine for Laura and made to add sparkling water to it from the glass decanter on the sideboard.

               “Mum!” Laura groaned.  “For heaven’s sake!  I’m twenty-two years old!”

               Emily shrugged and filled the glass all the way with wine, then sat down with her own glass, “You should feel lucky you get any at all!  I didn’t get to drink real tea until I was nineteen, and wine wasn’t something I discovered until I married your father.”  She took a sip and nodded, “Of course, I always said my aunts were a wee bit on the old-fashioned side!”  She winked at her daughters and raised her glass, “Welcome home, girls!” 

               The glasses clinked together merrily and they settled down for a chat as the clatter of pans in the kitchen played percussive counterpoint to their words.

 

               Dinner had been quite good, actually.  Laura had to admit that Daddy wasn’t really a bad cook after all.  Things were a bit disorganized, and the kitchen was a veritable disaster area, but everything tasted fine, and he had made coffee, which was something that he was even better at than Mum.  The shortbread cookies were her doing, but he didn’t try to take credit for that, not that he could have.  They sat for some time at the table, until Robin picked up her plate and told her to come and help wash up. 

               As she cleared the table, she noticed that her parents had moved to the living room without question or demur, obviously happy to have them home, but likewise parental enough to allow them their share of the chores.  Although they hadn’t mentioned anything outright yet, there was obviously a large discussion that they were preparing for.  Robin washed and Laura dried.  It had always been this way.  After wiping a large green platter that she had never seen before, Laura took it out to the living room to ask her mother where it went and she stopped cold.  Her parents were locked together on the couch in a rather amorous embrace.  It was a lot more than a kiss; that was for certain.  Laura backed away in a state of shock and simply laid the plate down on the kitchen table.  Now that was not normal!

 

               Robin woke.  She wasn’t sure what made her rouse so abruptly from her slumber, but now that she was awake, she wasn’t going to sleep any time soon.  She sighed and rolled over to look at her sister.  Lola was a very gregarious sleeper.  In everything else that she did she was calm and understated, but when she slept she was everywhere.  Her current position was on her stomach with the pillow on the floor, one foot on top of it and the other hanging over the end of the tiny single bed.   Covers were obviously optional.  Their room was always toasty warm, being located directly above the kitchen, and tonight was no exception.  Robin liked that about Cashlin – everything was warm, cozy, and familiar; there were no surprises here.  What she also liked was how her parents were behaving.  They were actually back together, and that was good.  The big conversation hadn’t really taken place, but Mum had explained what happened in New York and that they had settled things.  Daddy hadn’t said much, but that was completely normal when they were talking about personal matters.

               Robin slid out of her own bed and threw a sweater on over her nightgown, then let herself out into the hall.  As she passed the spare bedroom door, she looked in, curiously.  Although it had been offered, both she and Lola preferred to sleep in their own room.  Robin didn’t like sleeping alone and Lola just wanted to do it for old times sake, as she put it.  The spare bedroom was bathed in moonlight and Robin stepped in to look around more closely than she had earlier.  The bed was the same – a large four poster double bed in a dark stained maple.  The bureau was likewise familiar.  Although she hadn’t opened it, she knew that she would find neatly ordered piles of her brother’s things.  This was where her parents kept their memories of both Frank and Jed.  It had been Jed’s nursery and Frank’s bedroom.  She moved to the shelves that spanned the long wall beside the window and looked at their contents. 

               There were books, of course.  Frank’s school annuals and a couple of textbooks about flying sat on the bottom shelf, and a row of children’s books and young reader novels including his favorite Hardy Boys series.  Above that were photos and mementos of his life, and what little evidence there was of Jed.  Robin looked at a framed photograph of her and her tiny younger brother, taken only about two weeks after he was born.  In her mind he had never aged beyond that; he was always the tiny, delicate infant that she was big sister to.  The tears burned behind her eyes and she shut them for a moment.  She would have to go and see him tomorrow.

               She left the room as she found it and padded down the hall towards the staircase.  Although she had played a couple short bits tonight while they were talking to her parents, she hadn’t had time to practice today, and since she was awake, she might as well take advantage of it!  As she passed her parents room she stopped abruptly.  Their door was open its customary crack.  Even now, the concession to parenthood was there.  She heard her father’s words, intoned lower than usual and her mother’s response.

               “Tell me, love?”

               “Just like that.  Oh…”

               Robin raised her eyebrows and then smiled.  She slipped down the stairs to her piano and began to play.

 

 


End file.
